


The Strange and Unpredictable Power of the Kiss Cam

by storyteller0311



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Altered Season 1 Events, F/M, Oliver Rejects Playboy Image, Oliver Takes Over QC from the beginning, Oliver and Felicity Meet Under Different Circumstances, Season 1 Re-Imagine, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4379954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyteller0311/pseuds/storyteller0311
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Oliver Queen believed that righting his father's wrongs applied to Queen Consolidated as well as Starling City? What if Felicity and Oliver met under alternate circumstances that immediately sparked an attraction? How do those changes effect the trajectory of the events of season 1?</p><p>When Oliver and Felicity meet at a Starling City Rockets game and have an unexpected encounter with the Kiss Cam, their burgeoning friendship changes the trajectory of events and their lives become entwined in ways neither anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a Tumblr prompt from honorthedeadbyfighting. This fic began as a simple response to a prompt, but is now a re-imagining of Season 1. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd and all mistakes are my own.

The cheer of the crowd was deafening as the Starling City Rockets pushed into the lead against Central City.

“Let’s go Rockets!” Felicity shouted, pumping her fist in the air and smiling as she watched her favorite player fly across the court and score again.   _Yes, baby, that is how you score! Now let’s finish this and bring home a win!_

The sound of chuckling to her left broke Felicity’s internal celebration. _Oh, God. Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud._

“You did, but it’s okay. I thought it was pretty funny.”

“I’m so sorry. I have no filter,” Felicity said turning to look at her neighbor. _Oh no. Not only can I not keep my mouth shut, but my filter has failed in front of Oliver Queen._

Even with a Starling City Rockets hat on his head, there was no mistaking the identity of the man next to her who happened to be the richest guy in Starling City and her boss. Well, her boss’s boss’s boss. 

“Really, it’s no problem,” Oliver said with a grin. “Besides, it’s great to see someone actually enjoying the game,” he said, nodding towards the man to Felicity’s right before turning his attention back to the game. 

“Oh…yeah…” Felicity said, her words trailing off as she looked to her right. 

Her boyfriend Sam’s head was bowed and he was focused on his phone, completely oblivious to what was going on around him. As Felicity looked at him, she couldn’t help but feel…annoyed. Or maybe she felt disappointed? No, it was definitely annoyed. When her friend Callie had fixed them up two months earlier, Felicity had had high hopes for Sam. He was nice, funny, an engineer with similar nerdy interests, and she genuinely liked him. But…something was just…off. Especially lately. He had an aloofness that she hadn’t noticed at first and tonight alone he had looked more at his phone than he had looked at her.

“Hey,” she said bumping her shoulder against his, “are you having fun?”

“Hmm?” He said, not looking up from his phone.

Taking her hand and placing it over the phone, Felicity said, “I asked if you were having fun.”

“Oh, yeah, lots of fun,” Sam said smiling, finally forced to tear his eyes away from his phone.

Felicity’s smile in return didn’t quite meet her eyes, as she doubted the truth of his words. 

“It’s just that you seem distracted. Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine,” Sam said with a bit of a huff, squeezing her hand and turning his attention to the court.

Not wanting to get into it there, Felicity tried to push her annoyance/disappointment out of her mind and turned her attention back to the game.

****

As soon as the words left his mouth, Oliver cringed. Of course his neighbor was there with the man to her right.

“Sorry about that,” Oliver said with a slight grimace when she finally turned her attention back to the game.

“Oh, for what?” Felicity asked glancing in his direction as the crowd groaned with Central City’s latest basket.

“I didn’t mean to make fun of your boyfriend,” Oliver said, nodding in Sam’s direction.

Looking at Sam, whose attention was once again focused on his phone, Felicity couldn’t help the slight tone of bitterness as she said, “Don’t worry about it. Really.”

Oliver couldn’t help but feel for her since her boyfriend was either completely uninterested in sports or was just a complete jerk. He had a feeling that it was the latter.

“I’m Oliver by the way, Oliver…” he said lifting his hat up a bit, removing some of the shadow from his face.

“Queen,” Felicity finished, before turning red at her interruption. “Sorry! I, uh, I know who you are…I, um, I work at QC. In the IT Department…” she rambled. “I’m Felicity by the way, Felicity Smoak.”

“Nice to meet you Felicity,” Oliver said, holding out his hand to shake hers. “I’ve heard your name before. It’s nice to put a face to it. Walter has mentioned you. He’s a fan of your work.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Queen,” Felicity said returning his handshake.

“Please, call me Oliver,” he said, looking down and realizing Felicity’s hand was still in his. 

Suddenly, cheers erupted around them as the Rockets scored again and he felt Felicity abruptly pull her hand from his and look back towards the court.

**** 

Placing her hand in her lap, Felicity tried to ignore the tingly feeling shaking Oliver Queen’s hand had sent up her arm. _Stop it Smoak. Totally inappropriate._  

Fifteen minutes later, Felicity cheered with the rest of the Starling fans as the team’s newest player scored a 3-point shot. She glanced up at the scoreboard, smiling to see the Rockets were more than 18 points in the lead as half time quickly approached. 

Just about to glance back at the court, Felicity was suddenly met with an image of herself on the screen, the words ‘Kiss Cam’ written in pink above her head.

 _Oh, frack._ Felicity thought, feeling herself turn red. 

“Sam,” she said looking at her boyfriend and nudging him with her elbow.

“Huh?” Sam said, not looking at her.

“Sam!” Felicity said, nudging him harder.

Finally, Sam looked up and glanced to the screen where she was pointing. 

As if she wasn’t embarrassed enough, his response of “Nope, not going to happen” definitely cemented her humiliation.

To make matters worse, people were noticing what was happening and the Kiss Cam was not moving off them. 

_Oh, God, why can’t I just magically disappear right now?_

Abruptly, hands were encasing her cheeks as her lips were engulfed in a firm, prolonged kiss.

Felicity barely had time to register the cheers, catcalls and clapping around her as a warm tingling feeling suffused her entire body.

All too quickly the kiss was over, the crowd had quieted, and she found herself staring into the startlingly blue eyes of Oliver Queen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity's boyfriend doesn't take too kindly to Oliver's gesture and learns not to mess with Felicity Smoak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind words! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

Oliver craned his neck toward the arena entrance, looking to see if Tommy had finally arrived. His friend still nowhere in sight, Oliver turned his attention back to the game. _Typical Tommy_ , he thought shaking his head, _late as always._  

Glancing to his right he saw that Felicity had her hands tightly clasped in her lap as she watched the game, every so often stealing a look in her boyfriend’s direction.

 _What an ass_ , Oliver thought, looking at the man whose eyes were still fixed on his phone. _Maybe the vigilante should pay him a visit...but, r_ _eally, what could be so damn interesting?_  

Part of him wanted to tell the guy off for Felicity, but based on what Walter had told him Oliver knew she could take care of herself. When he said earlier that Walter had mentioned her, that was an understatement. Walter Steele was probably one of Felicity Smoak’s biggest fans. Oliver had been meeting with Walter weekly as he slowly integrated himself into QC, and Walter probably mentioned her in some capacity every time – so often and with such detail that Oliver felt like he knew her. Just yesterday his stepfather had called her a ‘rising star in the IT department who could probably run Applied Sciences with her eyes closed.’

Now that he had finally met her, Oliver was even more intrigued. He had succeeded in fulfilling the first part of his father's wish. He'd survived. And now he was finally ready to right his wrongs. With Dig's help, he'd begun to fight for the soul of Starling City and now he was nearly ready to fight for the survival redemption of his father's company.  And something told him that Felicity Smoak would be able to help him in both of his missions. 

Glancing back up at the scoreboard, Oliver smiled to see Starling was now firmly 18 points in the lead. His smile faded when he noticed that the Kiss Cam had found his row.

“Oh, frack.” Felicity whispered harshly next to him. His momentary relief at not being the object of the camera disappeared when he realized that it _had_ found Felicity and her asshat of a boyfriend and said asshat was completely ignoring her.

When he heard “Nope, not going to happen” come out of the boyfriend’s mouth and witnessed Felicity turn completely white, Oliver couldn’t help himself.

Turning himself in his seat, Oliver took her face in his hands and pressed a firm kiss against her lips. He was just about to pull away when he felt her sigh softly and he deepened the kiss slightly, slanting his lips over hers and rubbing his thumbs along her cheekbones.

Finally he pulled away, registering the enthusiastic cheering around them. Felicity was staring at him with a stunned expression, her blue eyes wide.

Oliver’s thoughts were racing. Part of him couldn’t believe he had kissed her, but the other part couldn’t deny that the kiss was… _something._ And he also couldn’t deny that at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to tune out everything around them and kiss her again.

Suddenly, Felicity rocketed back in her seat, leaving his hands in midair where just a moment before they had been resting against her cheeks.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing jackass?”

_The arrow option was sounding better and better._

**** 

Felicity’s whole body felt like it was on fire. She had just kissed Oliver Queen. Well, technically he had kissed her. Maybe he’d kiss her again _. Woah. Where did that come from?_  

Her eyes flicked to Oliver’s lips when suddenly she was propelled backwards in her seat by an arm against her chest.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing jackass?” Sam said, his body leaned over hers towards where Oliver sat. _Oh, no._  

For a minute she had forgotten about her boyfriend. She had to suppress a giggle at his words. Because, let’s face it, if anyone was the jackass in this situation it was him.  _And he was really about to regret his actions._

“Get your hand off me!” Felicity said, not even giving Oliver a chance to respond, before yanking Sam’s arm off her chest and pushing him away.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Oliver said in a deadly calm but serious voice that made the hairs on Felicity’s arms stand up. 

Standing up, Sam looked like he was about to lunge at Oliver before he seemed to reconsider saying, “Let’s go Felicity. I think we’ve had enough _fun_ tonight.”

Felicity couldn’t help the laugh that escaped as she stood up and faced him. “If you think I’m going anywhere with you, then maybe that phone of yours finally did rot your brain.”

“You’ve done nothing but ignore me all night and on top of that you’ve humiliated me. Twice.” She said looking around at the gaping spectators near them.

Finally, after what seemed like an interminable amount of time, Sam grabbed his coat and left, stomping angrily through the stands towards the exit.

_Good riddance, asshole._

**** 

Oliver let himself relax slightly as the boyfriend walked away – a good thing because if he hadn’t he might have left the arena on a stretcher.

“Good riddance, asshole,” Felicity said under her breath. 

Oliver couldn’t help the burst of laughter that left his mouth. 

“I said that out loud didn’t I?” She asked, groaning and covering her face with her hands. “Filter, infinity, Felicity, zero.”

Oliver laughed harder; watching as she slowly turned her face toward him, a small grin on her face. Then she was laughing too, sinking back into her seat as tears leaked out the corners of her eyes. 

Slowly, the laughter stopped and they both seemed to speak at once.

“I’m sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I shouldn't – I don’t know what came over me.” 

“Thank you – for _you know_ , saving me from complete humiliation,” she said.

He knew the moment she caught his words over her own, felt his stomach drop as a shadow passed over her face.

“Oh. Right,” she said, standing abruptly. “Really though,” she said, “thanks for coming to my defense and for the, well…” She trailed off, randomly gesturing between them. “It was…nice.” 

“Felicity…I…” He stammered, standing from his seat. 

“I need to go. Thank you. Again,” she said walking away.

“Felicity, wait, I…” He said, trying to delay her departure, so he could find the words to say. Something along the lines of ‘I take it back. I’m not sorry. I do know what came over me. Don’t leave." 

But before he could speak, she had turned around, said “Say hi to Walter for me,” and left.

Sitting back down, Oliver stared into space, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. _What is wrong with me? It was just a meaningless kiss. I barely know her_ , he thought.

 _Liar,_ his subconscious whispered.

“Oliver!”

Startled at the sound of his name, Oliver turned to his left to see that Tommy had finally arrived.

“Hey – what’s the matter with you?” Tommy asked as he sat down. “I must have said your name 5 or 6 times.”

“Nothing…” Oliver said distractedly, before shaking his head quickly and turning towards Tommy trying to pretend as if the last hour hadn’t happened. “I’m fine.”

 _Yeah right._  

“So…” Tommy said gesturing at the court. “What did I miss?” 

_Oh, if Tommy only knew._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity and Oliver's kiss is the talk of Starling City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos for this story. It started out as a prompt and I had no idea where it was going, but I'm slowly figuring it out. I don't know how many chapters this will end up being, but I can promise that I will finish it. 
> 
> Bear with me as I navigate this version of Oliver and Felicity's journey.

The moment Felicity exited the stands she made a beeline for the nearest stairwell, trying not to look at anyone.

Opening the stairwell door, Felicity closed it behind her and stopped, taking a deep breath to try to calm her hammering heart.

 _I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me._  

The words kept playing over and over in her head. Of course he was sorry. Of course the kiss didn’t mean anything. She knew that. But why did she feel like she’d just lost something important. _Stop it,_ she thought, _it’s Oliver Queen. What do you expect? If kissing girls were an Olympic sport, Oliver Queen would win the gold medal._

Felicity paused in her thoughts. Oliver Queen _was_ a playboy – the television coverage of his miraculous return from the dead five months prior had made short work of reminding Starling City of his exploits. But, the Oliver Queen that had returned to QC earlier this year in the new position of Executive Vice President had surprised all the company’s employees with his interest and active participation. Particularly the women of the company who quickly learned that business and not flirting was his priority. No, the Oliver Queen she had met tonight, kiss or not, was genuine _._ Not some caricature of an ill-behaved playboy.

Shaking her head, Felicity pushed Oliver Queen from her mind, at least for the moment. Her embarrassment (and confusion) over the preceding hour was the least of her worries right now. Sam’s antics and her reaction had stranded her at the arena. Taking out her phone, she quickly called for a cab, hoping that she could duck out of the stadium and be home with a pint of mint chip before anyone recognized her from the Kiss Cam.

By the time she had walked down the stairs and stopped in the bathroom on the ground floor, her cab was waiting outside.

“52 Ivy Court, please,” she said sliding into the backseat.

Settling back, Felicity pulled out her phone again. She saw that she had a few missed calls and a voicemail. _Sorry, Callie_ , she thought, _I’ll call you in the morning because right now the last thing I want to do is talk._

Ignoring the alerts, Felicity flipped over to a different program, her fingers flying quickly over the screen. Now that she had solved the problem of how she was getting home, she could focus on her other problem: Sam.

Tonight was the final straw with him, as far as she was concerned. Ironically, she wasn’t even that upset. Mad, yes. But sad? No. 

Felicity’s thumb hovered over the button on the screen for a moment before she finally pressed down and hopefully erased Sam from her life for good.

****

After the game, Tommy made his way to Laurel’s while Oliver headed to Verdant. While it should have been awkward to see Laurel and Tommy together, it wasn't. Oliver may have loved Laurel once upon a time, but five years of hell had put his life and relationships into perspective. Oliver was glad that Laurel and Tommy had found happiness together. He just hoped that one day he could atone for his treatment of her. 

Arriving in the basement, Oliver wasn’t surprised to see Diggle sitting there waiting for him. His role as Oliver's bodyguard had only lasted about two weeks before the former soldier managed to follow him one night. With no option but to reveal his identity as Starling City's recently appeared vigilante, Oliver had somehow managed to keep Dig from turning him in to the police. Within a month, Dig had joined him in the Foundry, helping interpret the facts behind the names in Robert Queen's mysterious book. He also wasted no time pointing out or continuing to remind Oliver that simply hunting down the people in the book and putting arrows in them wasn't the most effective method of saving the city.

Hanging his coat on the back of a nearby chair, Oliver asked, "have any luck with the next name on the list?"

"Nothing beyond what a simple internet search can tell us," Dig responded as he turned away from the computer monitor. "As much as I still think this mission is crazy and reckless and that we don't want to involve anyone else, I think we need help. As we've already discussed, there's something bigger going on with this list, but we've hit a brick wall."

Nodding, Oliver walked towards his trunk and grabbed his bow and quiver, setting them on the table.

“So, was tonight’s mission of presenting Oliver Queen, normal billionaire, to the people of Starling City a success?” Digg asked with a smirk.

“Depends on what your interpretation of the words ‘normal billionaire’ and ‘success’ are,” Oliver said, trying to mask a grin as he started sharpening his arrows.

“Hold on,” Dig said, his attention now squarely on Oliver. “What does that mean? What did you and Tommy do? And why are you smiling?" 

“Tommy didn’t do anything. He didn’t even show up until it was nearly half time,” Oliver said. “And I’m not smiling,” he said adopting a serious look.

Digg raised an eyebrow. “Okay. What did _you_ do? And don’t say nothing, because it’s obvious you did something.”

Sighing, Oliver shoved his hands into his pockets and began to pace, relaying the events of the evening. When he was done, he stopped and looked up to find Digg looking at him with a strange look on his face.

After a beat, Digg finally spoke. “Well. You certainly had an interesting evening. So, this Felicity works at QC?”

“Yeah,” Oliver replied. “She works in the IT department. Walter talks about her constantly. She’s some sort of genius that interned at QC straight out of MIT. She impressed Walter so much as an intern that he hired her before her internship was even complete. After meeting her tonight, I think she might be a good asset for us.”

“Just an asset, huh?” Digg said, looking pointedly at Oliver. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah, why?” Oliver asked as he picked up an arrow and started fidgeting with it. Realizing what he was doing, he quickly set it back down.

“Oh, no reason,” Digg said chuckling as he stood and headed for the stairs, “except that you haven’t stopped grinning since you got here, which let me tell you is kind of unnerving.”

Oliver returned to the arrows in front of him, trying to decide whether he wanted to go out on patrol tonight or just go home and fall into bed. 

Pausing half way up the steps, Diggle turned back to Oliver and said, “I can’t wait to meet this Felicity Smoak, because boy did she do a number on you.”

Before Oliver could look up, let alone respond, Digg was up the stairs and out the door. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard his words.

_Boy did she do a number on you._

Oliver fought the truth of Dig's words. He wanted to believe that he existed only for to save his city, his company, and his family. That there wasn't room in his damaged soul, his dangerous life for the _something_ he'd felt tonight. 

_But..._

_No,_ he thought, pushing the idea away and turning to grab his bow and don his gear.

****

The next morning Oliver wearily made his way down the main staircase of the Queen mansion. He had stayed out far too long, patrolling in circles until the only thought in his mind was his absolute exhaustion. Entering the dining room he found only Walter present, sitting at the table reading the morning paper.

“Good morning, Walter,” Oliver said as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down.

“Ah, Oliver, good morning,” Walter replied, glancing around the paper at his stepson before turning silent again.

Grabbing a piece of toast from the middle of the table, Oliver was taking a drink of his coffee when Walter spoke again. 

“You know, Oliver, when I gave Miss Smoak those tickets to the Rockets game, I hoped you would meet her. But you quite outdid yourself,” Walter said as Oliver choked on his coffee, looking up quickly. 

“I’m sorry?” Oliver asked, trying to clear his throat at the same time.

Before he could continue, Walter turned the front page of the Starling Times towards Oliver, displaying a large image of him kissing Felicity underneath a headline that screamed “ _Queen Rockets to the Rescue.”_

Oliver winced. _Really? Queen Rockets to the Rescue? Who writes this crap?_

Scanning through the article, Oliver was relieved to see that Felicity’s identity hadn’t been revealed in the article and because of the angle of the photo you couldn’t see her face. Studying the photo, Oliver couldn’t help remember the feeling of Felicity’s lips against his, the feeling of her cheeks under his thumbs, her eyes as she’d stared at him as they pulled apart.

_Stop. You can’t go there._

“I’m delighted you were finally able to meet Felicity, even if it involved some…unusual circumstances.” Walter said, jarring Oliver from his thoughts. “Did you like her?”

_Did you like her?_

“I…uh…yeah,” Oliver replied as Walter quirked his head at his stammering. “I thought she was very nice. I’m interested in getting to know her better.”

“Great, I’m glad to hear that,” Walter replied, folding the paper and rising from his seat. “I’m considering creating a new position for her, with your approval of course – Vice President of Technology Strategy. She’d report to Ed Lewis our Chief Technology Officer and she’d liaise between the Applied Sciences division and the manufacturing and operations areas of QC.”

“That’s great…” Oliver said, his words trailing off as a warm feeling spread through his chest at the thought of seeing Felicity again, of actually getting to know her. For the sake of his mission.

_His mission. Not himself._

_He needed to keep reminding himself of that._

****

After sleeping through her alarm, nearly being late to her 8am meeting, and an insanely busy morning, Felicity finally sunk down into her desk chair. Setting her glasses on her desk, she massaged her temples trying to will her growing headache to go back where it came from. Five o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

Her buzzing phone drew her from her thoughts and, looking at the screen, she saw Callie was calling. _Oops._ She had never called her back from last night. In fact, she hadn’t even listened to her voicemail.

“Hey,” she said, picking up the phone. “What’s up?”

“Felicity Megan Smoak. You are in so much trouble.” Callie said loudly, making Felicity’s ear hurt from the volume.

Returning the phone to her ear, she was almost afraid to ask, “Why am I in trouble?”

“Oh, I don’t know…maybe because I turned on my TV last night to check the score of the Rockets game only to see my best friend kissing Oliver fricking Queen on national television. Did I mention said best friend was at the game with her boyfriend? And that she failed to return my 18 phone calls and texts?” 

Felicity winced. “National television?”

Callie laughed. At least Felicity knew she wasn’t actually mad. “Oh yeah, national television, the front page of the newspaper, every celebrity website in existence, and don’t even look at social media. One Oliver Queen-Felicity Smoak make out session plastered everywhere.”

As Callie talked, Felicity pulled up as many websites as she could think of. Their picture was prominently featured on every single one.

Felicity laid her head on her desk. _Double triple quadruple FRACK._ Suddenly the weird looks she’d received that morning during her meeting made horrible sense.

_Quintuple frack._

“Well, at least they haven’t figured out who you are yet…and you really can’t see your face in the photo they’re using on most of the sites – although the video displays the whole shebang. I mean, really though, all in all it’s not like it was a _bad_ thing. Sam was being a total ass and Oliver kissed you, not the other way around. Are you listening? Felicity!”

Oh, right, Callie was still talking.

“Yeah?” Felicity responded, trying to assimilate the rush of words that had just come out of her friend’s mouth.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Callie asked.

“Yep, got it,” Felicity replied, talking more to herself than to Callie. “I’m basically Snow White or Sleeping Beauty without the sleeping, you know prince charming coming to my rescue with a kiss….How am I ever going to show my face again?”

 _I’m going to need a head transplant. And a new job. Maybe a new name._  

“So, Sam’s a goner, I imagine?” Callie asked.

Felicity couldn’t help chuckling. Callie made it sound like she’d done him in. “Oh yeah. If he didn’t realize it last night, he definitely realized this morning not to make me look like a fool.”

“What did you do?” She asked.

“Well, first, I erased my existence from his life. All my contact information has mysteriously disappeared from all his devices. He’s also on QC’s security list and my doorman knows to turn him away on sight. And…I might have locked him out of his system at work and made it play farting noises every time he unsuccessfully tried to log-in.” 

“Remind me never to piss you off,” said a voice that was definitely not Callie’s.

Felicity’s head snapped up and looked to the door.

“Uh, Callie, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

“Wait! I didn’t even get to ask you if he was a good kisser. I mean, he certainly looks like he is–“ Felicity hung up the phone.

“Hi,” she said looking to where the subject of Callie’s musings was standing propped against her office doorframe.

“Hi,” he said, a slight smile gracing his lips. His really talented lips.

_Frackety, frack frack frack._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver can fight his feelings all he wants, but he still finds himself in front of Felicity's office door. Can he figure out a way to secure her help for his missions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your amazing patience in waiting for this new chapter. Thank you also for your kudos and wonderful comments on this story. Real life got in the way a little bit and then I was out of the country for a week. But, I'm back and I have a plan for where this story is going now that it's no longer just a response to a Kiss Cam prompt. 
> 
> If you were an original reader of this work, I encourage you to go back and re-read Chapters 1-3. I have edited them slightly and added some text that better informs where this story will be going. 
> 
> This chapter might be on the short side, but it's a good bridge to where we'll be going.
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy!

When Oliver left his office in the middle of the afternoon to get a cup of coffee, he didn’t intend to end up in front of Felicity’s office door. And he certainly didn’t know what he was going to say when he saw her.

Well, that was kind of a lie. As much as he had tried to deny it, Felicity had been a constant fixture in his mind in the 16 hours since he’d kissed her at the game. And since his discussion with Walter at breakfast, Oliver had known that he needed to see Felicity again. Soon.

Everything he’d heard about Felicity from Walter, combined with just being in her presence the evening before, had caused something to click into place. He needed to know her. Needed to see what she was capable of. Needed to have her on his side as he took over QC and tried to transform his city. She was an asset he couldn’t pass up.

_Just an asset, huh?_ Dig’s words from the night before echoed in his mind.

As he walked the few final steps to her door, Oliver could hear a one-sided conversation filtering out into the hall. 

_“…And…I might have locked him out of his system at work and made it play farting noises every time he unsuccessfully tried to log-in.”_

Leaning in the doorframe of Felicity’s open door, Oliver couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” he said jokingly, alerting Felicity to his presence.

Her head snapped up so quickly that Oliver worried momentarily that she’d given herself whiplash.

“Uh, Callie, I have to go. I’ll call you later,” she said quickly into the phone before setting it down with a loud thud on her desk.

“Hi,” Felicity said quietly, a tentative look on her face.

“Hi,” he responded, a smile forming on his lips as he took in her appearance. Gone were the blue jeans and Rockets t-shirt she’d been wearing the night before and in their place was a bright, form-fitting dress.

As he studied her, he suddenly realized that several moments had passed and neither of them had spoken.

“So, I take it you’ve dealt with last night’s…uh…inconvenience?” Oliver asked, breaking the silence.

Laughing, Felicity responded, “Oh, I’ve dealt with him alright. And if the perpetual farting noises coming from his electronic devices aren’t enough of an indication of my feelings, then I’d hate to be him. I really don’t want to have to hack into Homeland Security’s server and put him on the watch list, but I will if I have to. And, oh my god, I can’t believe I said that out loud. Because that would be very illegal. And I’m just going to stop talking now in 3…2…1.”

As Oliver watched Felicity babble, the warm feeling he’d had that morning talking about her with Walter returned with a vengeance.

“You’re remarkable,” he uttered, almost without thinking. The warm feeling turned into a full blush as he realized what he’d said.

_Smooth, Queen, real smooth. What happened to sticking to your mission?_

Felicity went completely silent across the room, looking at him with an unreadable look. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a smile spread across her pink lips and she replied “thank you for remarking on it.”

Clearing his throat, Oliver began, “So, I, uh…” at the same moment Felicity launched into another babble.

“Please, please ignore what I said about Homeland Security….oh, sorry.” Felicity said, stopping when she realized Oliver was also speaking.

“No, go ahead,” Oliver said, moving to sit in the guest chair across from Felicity’s desk.

Regrouping somewhat, Felicity continued, “I, uh, don’t want you to think that I’d ever do something illegal here at QC. Please don’t fire me. I really love my job here and I can’t even imagine what you think of me – I mean between the debacle at the game last night and my stupid babbling about hacking into government databases. Which, I swear, I don’t make a habit of, unless you count my Goth phase at MIT…”

Gears were whirring in Oliver’s mind. Any doubt about Felicity’s skills and her ability to help his mission were thrown out the window and she continued her adorable babbling.

_Wait. Adorable?_

Oliver ignored that thought. He didn’t have time to worry about it right then because he had suddenly realized exactly how to use her skills to the best advantage without blowing the cover on his nocturnal activities.

_There’s something bigger going on with this list…_ Dig’s words echoed in his mind. Something bigger. A bigger mission. That’s what Oliver needed to create. One that combined his work at QC and as the vigilante. One that kept Felicity in the dark and provided a perfect cover.

“Fe-li-city,” Oliver said with a chuckle, preventing her babbling from going any further. “Breathe.” 

Felicity fell completely silent, took a deep breath, and clasped her hands.

“I wasn’t kidding a minute ago when I said you’re remarkable. I really should be apologizing to you…And, please, I’d be a fool to fire you,” Oliver said seriously.

Oliver leaned forward in the chair, making sure he had Felicity’s full attention before continuing, “In fact, I came down here to ask for your help. How would you like to help me save Queen Consolidated?”

 **** 

“QC needs saving?” Felicity asked Oliver with confusion. _And he wants me to help him save it?_

“Well, in a manner of speaking...” Oliver replied before elaborating. “When I came back…I promised myself that I would do everything in my power to ensure QC’s success. Walter has done a wonderful job, but I’ve had a lot of time to sit and observe over that last few months and I have concerns about some of what we’re doing. And I want to make sure QC is the best it can possibly be, for our employees and for our city.” 

“Oh,” Felicity replied, not sure how to respond to such a passionate explanation. “That’s…wow. Are you sure you want me? Want me to help you that is, not want me, want me…” _Oh, god, shut up Felicity!_ I mean, that’s…of course I’ll help.”

“Thank you,” Oliver said, a smile spreading across his face as he stood and held his hand out to her.

_No wonder all the girls fall all over him. That smile is just….yeah._

“You’re welcome,” Felicity said smiling as she shook his hand, the tingling she felt every time she came into contact with him racing up her arm. 

The handshake lasted longer than it should have until Oliver seemed to realize he hadn’t let go and abruptly dropped her hand and turned for the door.

Turning in the doorway to face her he said, “I’ll need a few more days to gather the rest of the information and then we can get started. Have a great day Felicity. And, thank you again.”

Felicity stood watching his retreating form for longer than necessary until she recalled her phone conversation with Callie and remembered she had a very important task. 

She had some websites to crash and a Kiss Cam adventure to erase from existence. 

_Okay, well, maybe she’d keep copies of the video and photos for herself. You, know, just in case._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver has more of a "pla" than a "plan," Dig goads Oliver until he snaps, and Felicity is trying to figure out what the heck is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful kudos and comments! I appreciate them very much.
> 
> And I'm so very glad you're enjoying this story. 
> 
> Some quotes in this chapter are taken from out lovely "Arrow." I own nothing and the CW and Arrow's fantastic writers own everything.

As Felicity learns over the following two weeks, “saving Queen Consolidated” is a plan that Oliver is still in the process of developing. But, in the simplest of terms, what Oliver wants is a technological version of an audit. With a side order of the strongest and most technologically advanced firewall in creation. And he has as many questions for Felicity as he has information for her about what they’re doing.

 _Really. What was with all the questions? It’s his plan, not hers._  

Frankly, she still wasn’t quite sure what he was after. And she didn’t know how running in-depth searches on seemingly random names was going to reveal what was wrong with QC.

Oliver Queen and his “special project” is a mystery wrapped in a conundrum. And Felicity hated mysteries. They bugged her. 

The ringing phone breaks Felicity from her thoughts and she’s not surprised to see Oliver’s name on the caller ID.

“Felicity Smoak, IT Girl Extraordinaire at your service,” she answers.

“Oliver Queen, hopeless Executive Vice President calling,” Oliver replied with a laugh. 

“I was beginning to think you’d given up on our project,” Felicity joked. “You know, because, I haven’t heard from you in a whole 12 hours.”

Since his stop in her office the afternoon following the Kiss Cam incident, Felicity has seen Oliver every day. Well, not weekends, so nearly every day. If he didn’t show up to her office with random research or IT security requests, she passed him in the hall, saw him in the cafeteria, or encountered him in the elevator. 

“Is that your way of saying that you missed me?” Oliver asked. 

“No, but if it works for you, go with it.” Felicity replied as a blush crept up her neck.

Clearing his throat, Oliver changed the subject. “Actually, I was calling to see if you could come to my office. Walter brought some information to my attention this morning that I think is involved in our larger project.”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll be there soon.” Felicity answered, hanging up the phone.

As she stood and grabbed her tablet, Felicity glanced at her feet and sighed. She hadn’t anticipated a meeting with the CEO this afternoon.

  _I just had to wear the panda flats today, didn’t I…._  

**** 

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Dig asks as Oliver hangs up the phone.

“No, I didn’t know that,” Oliver says with a glare, watching as Dig sits across from his desk. The warm feeling he had while joking with Felicity dissipates as he’s sucked back into reality. He knows where Dig’s going with this. Knows he’s goading him, playing the ‘big brother’ card. Oliver should just shut him down, laugh it off. But he doesn’t. He’s at war with himself and he almost wants the fight. Even though he knows Felicity and Walter could walk through the door any second. “Care to elaborate?”

Not mincing words, Dig asks, “when are you going to admit that you like this girl? I mean, just ask her out already. You’ve been mooning over her for weeks. Please. The constant smiling is getting creepy.”

“First of all, I don’t smile constantly – and I certainly don’t ‘moon’,” Oliver says defensively as Dig gives him a dubious look. “And second, it’s not that easy – you know that. I can’t involve someone in this life I’ve chosen to lead. I can’t do that to someone I could actually care about.” 

Standing, Dig pauses and addresses Oliver seriously. “There’s your key word, Oliver – chosen. Don’t let yourself forget that you have a choice in all of this. I won’t pretend that I’ll ever fully understand what happened to you while you were gone. But, you have a choice. Be miserable or be happy.”

Looking away from Dig, Oliver remains silent, a war of emotions and thoughts racing through his head. _No, Dig would never understand the years he spent away from Starling City, the many pieces of his soul that were forcibly taken from him and the few he willingly gave away in order to survive. To make it home._

_Happiness just wasn’t in the cards for him, was it?_

Dig comes to stand directly in front of Oliver’s desk, resting his hands on the tabletop. “Go ahead and ignore me. But, Oliver you’re going to have to let someone in eventually. What you’re doing won’t last forever. I mean, I’m trying to help you, trying to understand what we’re doing, what’s fueling this mission. But, for god’s sake man, fill in some of the blanks!” 

Oliver looks up and scowls. “Not right now…”

Dig cuts him off. “You mean not ever. ”

Suddenly Oliver’s had enough. Dig doesn’t get it. Will probably never get it.

“These were five years,” he yells, “five years…where nothing good happened! And you and everyone else in my life are better off not knowing.”

Oliver doesn’t notice as Dig stalks out of his office. Doesn’t notice the tears that have leaked out of his eyes.

Definitely doesn’t notice the wide-eyed Felicity hovering in his doorway.

****

When Felicity arrives at Oliver’s office, the last thing she expects is to have found herself in the middle of a pissing match. But that’s exactly what looks like is going on between Oliver and his bodyguard Mr. Diggle.

Trying to make herself invisible, which was kind of hard to do when all the offices on this floor had glass walls, Felicity pretended to check something on her tablet.

_“These were five years –– five years…where nothing good happened! And you and everyone else in my life are better off not knowing.”_

The volume of Oliver’s voice startles Felicity, causing her to nearly drop her tablet. The desperation in his voice, however – the raw emotions – makes her pause and study him through the glass.

Mr. Diggle stalks out of the office, offering her a tight smile, before taking up his post in the reception area. Moving towards Oliver’s open door, Felicity can only speculate what their conversation was about. 

_Oh, Oliver Queen was a mystery all right. A mystery she might just have to solve._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discoveries are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for all the wonderful kudos and comments. I can't tell you how much I appreciate them. I've been a wannabe writer for a long time and a longtime lurker on lots of different fandom's fan fictions. So I really am amazed at the reception of my first multi-chapter fic. I really hope you're enjoying it!
> 
> Any plot points and dialogue taken from actual Arrow episodes belongs to the CW and the Arrow writers and producers.
> 
> Just a reminder that this story is canon-divergent and is a re-imagining of Season 1 if Oliver and Felicity were to meet under different circumstances and if some other things happened differently.
> 
> This is unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

_“…nothing good happened…”_

_“…better off not knowing…”_

Oliver’s words ring in Felicity’s ears as she hovers in his doorway debating whether to knock. She watches as he scrubs his hands down his face, then through his short hair as he stares into the distance.

_This is the real Oliver Queen_ , Felicity thinks. _Not the smooth executive. Not the reformed playboy. This is the man who everyone conveniently forgets was missing for five long years. The man who has spent the last three months trying to navigate what it means to come back from the dead. A man who, despite keeping everything inside, is desperately in need of a friend._

“Ah, Ms. Smoak, I was afraid I was running late, but it seems I’m right on time.”

Walter’s approach startles Felicity and alerts Oliver to her presence. His eyes briefly meet hers before he quickly turns his back to the door.

“Oh, Mr. Steele, right, you’re meeting with us too. Yes – right on time. How are you today?” Felicity asks, trying to stall Walter for an extra 30 seconds so Oliver can compose himself.

“I’m very well, thank you,” Walter replies. “Oliver has been telling me about the project you’re working on together. I think it’s a brilliant way for Oliver to take QC into its next chapter. And all the better that he has such a partner to collaborate with. I knew the two of you would hit it off when you met. I feel that great things are in your future at Queen Consolidated, Ms. Smoak.”

Felicity isn’t sure how to respond to Walter’s praise. She knew that QC’s CEO liked her and that he was probably one of the few people at QC who appreciated her abilities – well in addition to Oliver. And did he _wink_ at her when he referred to her and Oliver’s ‘partnership’? 

Realizing she needs to respond, Felicity replies, “thank you, Mr. Steele, that means a lot coming from you. As you know I’m happy to help Oliver and QC in any way I can.”

“Of course. Shall we?” Walter says gesturing for Felicity to enter Oliver’s office ahead of him.

Walking through the door, Felicity finds Oliver waiting for them as if his heated exchange with Mr. Diggle never happened.

“Felicity, Walter,” Oliver greets them, standing from his chair. “Thanks for coming, please take a seat,” he says, shaking Walter’s hand and briefly touching Felicity’s shoulder. 

Sitting across from Oliver’s desk, Felicity ignores the warm feeling where his hand had briefly rested on her shoulder and instead focuses on what Oliver is saying.

“Felicity, as I started to tell you over the phone, Walter mentioned something to me this morning that I think could be related to our project. Walter, can you explain the anomaly?”

“Of course Oliver,” Walter began, addressing Felicity directly. “As you know Ms. Smoak, QC recently purchased Unidac Industries and while reconciling some accounts from it and other investments, I came across some inconsistencies. In one instance from approximately three years ago, more than $2 million was invested into a project that seems to have never materialized. There is also a $3 million sum that disappears and reappears every two months.” 

Warning bells started going off in Felicity’s head. Something about what Walter was saying seemed vaguely familiar. And something was obviously fishy with what he was describing.

Walter continued. “Originally I was going to come to you directly and fill Oliver in later, but then I remembered the project you’re working on and thought maybe you had already come across something or that it could be tied in somehow. As Oliver and I discussed this morning, a variance of $5 million is quite concerning.”

“What do you think Felicity?” Oliver asks, his voice guarded, almost as if he was unsurprised that an anomaly like this existed.

“I think we could have a real problem on our hands,” Felicity answers. “If it was just the $2 million issue alone, I would say that embezzlement was the likely cause. But I think the reappearing $3 million is something else entirely.”

“Well, it seems we have a mystery on our hands which I have every confidence you’ll help us solve Ms. Smoak.” Walter says, standing from his seat. “I’m sorry to run, but I have a Starling National Bank board meeting in 20 minutes.”

“No problem, Walter, thanks for taking the time to bring this to our attention,” Oliver says, walking Walter out.

Waiting for Oliver to return to his seat, Felicity studies the framed photos on the cabinet behind his desk. She notices that Oliver is not in any of the photos, and instead, they’re all of other people. When her eyes land on an old framed photo of Robert and Moira Queen she pauses, something prickling at the back of her mind. Suddenly, she knows where she’s seen the $2 million dollar transaction – in a list of projects overseen by Oliver’s mother in the years before she married Walter Steele.

“Felicity, I wanted to apologize for earlier – Felicity? Fe-li-ci-ty!”

Oliver saying her name breaks her out of her thoughts. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Are you alright?” Oliver asks, confusion etched on his face.

Felicity debates whether to speak her mind or not. Wouldn’t it be better to look into it before telling Oliver she thought his mother might have something to do with the missing $2 million? In the end, Oliver takes the choice out of her hands.

“You know something, don’t you?” He asks. “You’ve seen something about these inconsistencies.”

“I – uh – yes, I think so,” Felicity responds. “Oliver, I – I think your mother might have authorized that transaction.”

****

It’s late when Oliver texts Felicity to see if she’s made any progress on researching the suspicious $2 million transaction. He’s not convinced that his mother authorized the transaction, but he knows better than to discount every possibility. No one in his life is quite what they seem, as much as he loves them or believes in their innocence.

Looking at his phone, Oliver knows he shouldn’t even be texting her. As impatient as he is about learning more about his father’s list of names and about the mysterious issue Walter brought to his attention, Felicity isn’t at his beck and call. But, he still texts her. Maybe she’s still in the building. She shouldn’t be. It’s late. But he silently hopes she is. 

Somehow he’s not surprised when she texts back asking him to come to her office. 

The halls of QC are deserted as he walks to the IT department where he finds her hunched over her tablet.

“How did you know I was still in the building?” He asks from the doorway.

“An educated guess,” she says smiling. “Word in the cafeteria is our Vice President is a bit of a workaholic.”

Chuckling, Oliver sits across from her desk. “I could say the same of you, Ms. Smoak. What are you still doing here?” 

Leaning her head slightly to the side, Felicity shrugs. “Mysteries bug me. They need to be solved. So that’s what I’m doing. If I went home I’d end up staring at my ceiling. Not sleeping. And not the good kind of not sleeping…And I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Felicity blushes.

_Maybe we could not sleep, together. The good kind of not sleeping where I can find out where that blush goes,_ Oliver thinks. And for once he doesn’t even care that he thought it. But he knows he still can’t act on it.

Grinning, he asks, “Did you find something?”

“Oh! Right,” Felicity says, clearing her throat and handing Oliver a folder. “In April 2009, your mother authorized the transfer of $2.6 million to a company called Granger Imports Inc. Granger Imports doesn’t exist. It never existed. The transfer was on paper only – there was no investment in this fake company.”

Any playful thoughts about Felicity evaporate from Oliver’s mind as he absorbs what Felicity is telling him. No investment. Alright. There could still be an explanation. 

“But the money was spent. It was used to set up an off-shore LLC called Tempest,” Felicity continues.

“That is definitely not part of QC’s holdings,” Oliver replies, the sinking feeling in his stomach intensifying. 

“You’re right. It’s not. I had to hack the bank records to learn the name. As far as the US government knows, Tempest doesn’t exist either. There’s nothing registered with the Secretary of State, no tax records, no patent applications. But, a month after it was created, Tempest purchased a warehouse. In Starling City.”

****

Later, Oliver would have a hard time remembering how he and Felicity got to the warehouse. He vaguely remembers taking the tablet out of her hands, telling her to grab her stuff and leading her to the parking garage.

Somewhere along the way he called Walter and told him to meet them as soon as possible. For a split second, he considered not telling Walter of the new development. But Walter had been unbelievably good to him since his return. Had been good to his mother and Thea. And as Dig had told him over and over again, he couldn't keep trying to do everything alone. Walter was a part of discovering this mystery and he needed to be part of solving it.

_His mother._ What did this mean? What was in the warehouse?

“Oliver?” Felicity asks as they waited outside the warehouse for Walter to arrive.

“Hmm?” Oliver responds, looking over at her bundled in his suit jacket. He felt bad that his haste to leave had made her forget her coat. But his suit jacket around her tiny frame did something to him and his regret was short lived.

“I know it’s none of my business, but I – I want you to know that you can always talk to me if you need to. I know you don’t like to talk about what happened while you were away and that you think everyone’s better off not knowing, but know that I’ll listen. Anytime.”

If it were anyone else, Oliver’s instinct would be to tell them to mind their own business, or to turn on the playboy Ollie charm of old and re-direct the subject. But looking at Felicity, he knows her offer is genuine and heartfelt. And he knows she had to have overheard at least part of his argument with Dig.

“Felicity, I,” Oliver says, taking a deep breath, “I – thank you." Looking down at his shoes, Oliver struggles to find the words he wants to say. "Thank you.”

Any more conversation is interrupted by Walter’s car pulling up alongside the warehouse.

“Showtime,” Felicity whispers, the nervousness in her voice making him realize that he was nervous too.

“This is it?” Walter asks as he gets out of the car and approaches the door to the warehouse where Oliver and Felicity have come to stand.

“Yep. I just need to break the key code to the door,” Felicity says as Oliver notices the keypad on the exterior wall. “It will just take a second.”

“It’s probably old files or old equipment,” Walter says quietly. “I’m sure your mother didn’t even realize the transaction would appear suspicious.”

Oliver wants to believe his step-father, but his gut isn’t so sure. Frankly, he’s not sure of anything anymore.

“Yes!” Felicity cheers next to him, her fist pumping in the air. “Huh, I actually do that.”

Oliver hangs on to the humor of Felicity’s banter as he opens the door to the warehouse, letting Walter and Felicity enter in front of him. He reaches for the nearby light switch as the door closes behind him.

Slowly, the vast warehouse is illuminated as each section of overhead lights come to life.

What Oliver sees will haunt him for the rest of his life. Not files. Not equipment. He feels numb and he knows the moment Felicity comprehends what she’s seeing.

“Oh my god,” Felicity says next to him, “oh my god.”

Walter is silent, a stricken look on his face.

The massive broken structure of the Queen’s Gambit lies in front of them. Impossibly in Starling City instead of lying at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. 

His knees feel weak. He needs to sit down, maybe even lie down. What had his mother done? And, _why?_  

But then, Felicity’s hand grips his, her blue eyes locked on his in the dim light.

And he swears it’s the only thing keeping him upright.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver reels in the aftermath of his, Walter, and Felicity's discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to everyone for reading! I love seeing your comments and am so, so very glad that you are enjoying this story. I hope to have the next chapter up very very soon.

Felicity’s hand is numb, but she doesn’t care.

Glancing at Oliver sitting next to her on the hood of his Aston Martin, she wonders if he’ll ever speak again. It’s been 45 minutes since they walked into the warehouse, 25 minutes since Walter drove away to speak with the head of QC’s security.

In all that time, Oliver hasn’t said a single word, hasn’t let go of her hand. 

Felicity isn’t sure what to think. Not sure about what it means that the Queen’s Gambit is sitting in a warehouse instead of at the bottom of the ocean. Not sure about Oliver’s reaction.

After getting over the initial shock of their discovery she expected that Oliver would get angry and launch into a flurry of activity – maybe even run off to confront his mother. But no, nothing. Silence. He had taken five steps towards the wreckage before slowly backing away, pulling Felicity with him, towards the door. And there he had stood until Walter announced he was leaving and they had followed him outside.

“It wasn’t an accident,” Oliver says quietly, startling Felicity from her thoughts.

“Oliver…” Felicity begins.

“It wasn’t an accident,” he says louder. “It was deliberate. It was murder.”

Felicity isn’t about to deny the suspiciousness of finding the wreckage of the Queen’s Gambit in a warehouse purchased by Moira Queen. But that didn’t mean that the boat was deliberately sunk. There had to be a reasonable explanation, right? While Mrs. Queen didn’t strike her as overly emotional, maybe she just wanted to recover any piece of her husband and son that she could, even if it was just the ill-fated yacht. 

_But why did she cover it up? Why cover her tracks like that and keep the yacht hidden for years?_

“Oliver, you – you can’t be sure of that,” Felicity says, trying to not jump to conclusions and see where Oliver’s going with this. “Just like you can’t be sure of why your mother salvaged –“ 

“There were scorch marks on the hull, Felicity. Made by a bomb – a bomb that was placed there on purpose. One that was powerful enough to sink the yacht but not blow it to smithereens,” Oliver says earnestly, his tone dead serious.

Oliver’s tone, his words make Felicity pause. _How does he know that? He barely glanced at that wreckage._ She’s almost afraid to ask, almost doesn’t.

“How do you know that?” She asks quietly. “You barely looked at the wreckage. How are you so certain?”

Oliver drops her hand and stands so abruptly that Felicity almost loses her seat on the car hood. He’s facing her now, one hand in his pocket, the other at his side, his fingers rubbing together nervously.

“Because I wasn’t always on the island. And when I was there I wasn’t alone.”

Felicity doesn’t have a chance to respond. Suddenly silent Oliver has been replaced with active Oliver and before she can process a single thought he grasps her hand and pulls her to her feet.

“I’ll drive you back to QC,” he says, opening the passenger door for her.

Fifteen minutes later, Oliver pulls into the parking space next to Felicity’s car. Their ride through downtown Starling was much like their time in the parking lot. Silent, with only the sound of the night air coming in through the open windows. 

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Felicity opens the door and moves to get out when Oliver’s hand grasps her arm gently.

“Felicity?” He asks, causing her to pause and turn towards him.

“Yeah?” She asks waiting for him to continue. 

“I’m – I, uh – I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, dropping his hand. 

Exiting Oliver’s car, Felicity opens the driver door of her Mini Cooper, ready to get in when she stops and turns back towards the Aston Martin, bending down to speak through the open window. 

“Promise me something,” she says. “Don’t – don’t do anything rash tonight.”

Oliver doesn’t answer, but just nods his head and waits for her to get in her car and start the engine.

_What have I gotten myself into?_ She wonders as she pulls out of the parking garage, Oliver driving off in one direction and she in the other. 

**** 

Oliver is not okay.

He makes the drive from QC to Verdant in record time, not giving a damn that he’s probably breaking every traffic law Starling City has on the books.

Pulling into club’s empty parking lot, he’s never been so glad that today is Tuesday and one of the days Verdant is closed. He usually appreciates the cover that Verdant’s crowds give to his presence in the basement. But tonight the last thing he needs is hundreds of people partying over his head.

Approaching the back door of the club, Oliver is momentarily startled to see Dig sitting on the loading dock beside the door.

“What are you doing out here?” Oliver asks, climbing the short set of stairs to the building.

“Waiting for you,” Dig replies. “Figured you’d show up eventually, but wasn’t sure you wanted me down there tonight. I know I pissed you off this afternoon.” 

Oliver had almost forgotten about their argument earlier in the day and forgotten that Felicity definitely overheard at least part of it.

_You’re going to have to let someone in eventually._  

_I know you don’t like to talk about what happened while you were away and that you think everyone’s better off not knowing, but know that I’ll listen._

_Because I wasn’t always on the island. And when I was there I wasn’t alone._

“Why do you put up with me?” Oliver says, turning towards where Dig sits. 

“God knows I shouldn’t,” Dig says honestly, sighing. “But, Oliver, when I signed up for this I told you that you needed someone whether you like it or not. That hasn’t changed.”

Dig continues. “You’re trying so hard to be so many things to so many people that you can’t do this alone. At first you needed someone to keep you from getting killed, someone to keep you from mindlessly putting an arrow in everyone listed in your father’s book. Now…now I put up with you because, as unlikely as it seemed in the beginning, you’re my friend and I believe in our mission to save our city. And I’ll keep putting up with you even if you stuff everything deep down inside and get pissed at me. Just like you’ll keep putting up with me challenging you to actually live the second chance you’ve been given.”

“You’re right.” Oliver says, holding his hand out to Dig who’s still sitting on the loading dock. 

Dig’s eyebrows shoot upward, before he finally takes Oliver’s hand and hauls himself up off the ground.

“You’re right about a lot of things,” Oliver continues, not giving Dig a chance to respond. “You’re right that I’ve tried to keep this life so well contained that I’ve become blind to the fact that The Vigilante and Oliver Queen’s lives don’t exist in a separate vacuum. You’re right that there’s probably more to that list than bad people who do bad things.”

“What -?” Dig begins as Oliver punches in the code to the door and opens it.

“It’s all connected. The list, QC, my family. I just came from a warehouse downtown. A warehouse my mother bought 3 years ago with $2 million she embezzled from QC – an embezzlement that Walter discovered and Felicity traced. And do you know what’s in that warehouse, Dig?” 

Oliver lets out a short bark of laughter, devoid of any humor. Dig is silent, waiting.

“The Queen’s Gambit. In two large pieces. Very obviously ripped apart by a bomb."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for your wonderful comments. I love seeing them and am so, so glad you're enjoying this story.

Oliver hung from the top rung of salmon ladder, letting the muscles in his arms burn as Dig sat at the desk processing what he’d just heard.

When they had first entered the basement, Oliver tried to explain the evening’s events as calmly as possible. But within 2 minutes, he was pacing back and forth and then shooting arrows into tennis balls as he talked. By the time he’d relayed the entire story, he had done more reps up the salmon ladder than he could count.

Dropping to the floor, he relished in the sting of his feet hitting the cement. At this moment, pain was better than the numbness he’d felt in the moments after seeing the Queen’s Gambit in the warehouse. 

_But not better than the feeling of Felicity’s hand in his. That was definitely better than pain._

Felicity. 

This whole situation made him nervous in a way he was rarely nervous. Not for himself, but for her. For Walter too. This was more than tracing the names in his father’s book, more than seeing if QC was one of his father’s legacies that needed saving. 

Oliver had to be honest. He was not prepared for what they found tonight. And he didn’t know how to process his mother’s involvement. This was something that could spiral out of control. And quickly. 

It already had. 

“So, Walter is involving the head of QC security?” Dig asks from across the room as Oliver throws on his grey hoodie and takes a seat. 

“Yeah,” Oliver replies. “I don’t like it, but there was no way to dissuade him from calling Josiah. Any excuse I could have come up with to convince him otherwise would’ve been pretty unbelievable so I had no choice.” 

 _Not to mention that you were rather mute at that moment._  

“Is he trustworthy?” Dig asks.

“Who, Josiah?”

Dig nods.

“I guess we’re going to find out,” Oliver replies. “But, I don’t think Walter is in any hurry to advertise the fact that his wife stole $2 million from her own company to salvage and hide the wreckage of her husband’s yacht.”

“She’s still your mother Oliver.” Dig replies, not missing the bitterness in Oliver’s tone.

“Yeah, my mother…who it seems I don’t know at all.”

“So, what do we do now?” Dig asks.

_Promise me something. Don’t do anything rash tonight._

“We wait and pretend tonight didn’t happen,” Oliver replies. “We gather more information. We keep looking into the list. I keep going to work at QC.”

Dig looks at Oliver, surprised. “And you’re okay with that?”

“No. But with Walter and Felicity involved in this, I can’t go all vigilante on the situation. At least not yet.”

Dig nods, standing. “Well then, I’m going to head out. I’ll see you in the morning. Do you want me to pick you up from the mansion or are you going to drive in yourself?”

“I’m not going back to the mansion tonight, so I’ll just meet you at QC in the morning.” Oliver says. 

“What happened to pretending that tonight didn’t happen?” Dig asks, pausing in his preparations to leave. 

“I might pretend about a lot of things, but tonight, I can’t pretend that my mother didn’t embezzle $2 million to hide my father’s sunken yacht in a warehouse.”

**** 

By 4 a.m. Felicity gives up on sleeping any more that night, her mind unable to shut down the swirling thoughts about Oliver, about what they’ve stumbled upon, about what the ramifications of that discovery might be.

And, if she’s honest, she can’t stop thinking about sitting on the hood of that car with his hand in hers.

Dragging herself out of bed, Felicity makes a pot of coffee and curls up on the sofa with a cup of the only thing that will get her through the workday. 

She’s not sure what part of the previous evening has unsettled her more, the revelation that Moira Queen salvaged the sabotaged (according to Oliver) Queen’s Gambit and hid it in a warehouse. Or that Oliver told her he wasn’t on the island the entire time that he was missing.

Watching the shadows dance across the walls of her living room, Felicity wonders if Oliver even realizes how much he revealed to her in such a short sentence.

Pre-island Oliver Queen, the playboy, was almost certainly gone. But Oliver Queen, the returned from the dead billionaire heir to QC, had secrets even those closest to him didn’t know. And for some reason he’d opened up to her.

Grabbing her phone from the end table, Felicity makes an impulsive decision, types a quick message and hits ‘send.’ 

 _Felicity: Are you ok?_  

The moment the message goes through, she almost regrets it. Worries he’ll think she’s prying. _Oh, god, why did I do that?_

The nearly instantaneous reply makes her stomach flip.

_Oliver: Depends on your definition of okay. Why aren’t you asleep?_

_Felicity: I could ask the same of you._

_Oliver: It’s been an interesting 24 hours. Plus, I don’t sleep much. But, you should go back to sleep._

_Felicity: You didn’t do anything rash did you?_

_Oliver: No, I didn’t._  

Felicity pauses. Kiss or not, a week ago she would have never texted Oliver Queen, let alone at 4 o’clock in the morning to ask if he was okay. But, the last 24 hours had set something in motion, had caused something to click in her brain. Were they…friends? Who had kissed once, held hands, and shared possibly sinister discoveries?

Felicity makes a decision, typing quickly and hitting ‘send.’

_Felicity: Do you like coffee?_

****

Oliver doesn’t know why he feels anxious. It’s just Felicity. It’s just coffee. At 6 a.m.

It isn’t a date, Oliver reminds himself as he approaches the café across the street from QC. People don’t go on dates before sunrise the morning after discovering the wreckage of the family yacht in a secret warehouse.

_It could be a date, if you just let it be one. If you just let yourself choose something for yourself instead of everything for everyone else._

He lets the thought linger as he reaches the door and sees Felicity sitting inside waiting for him, her smile lighting up her face when she sees him. 

A smile breaks across his face as he walks toward her, taking a seat.

“You didn’t sleep at all, did you?” she asks, gesturing towards him. “Did you even go home?”

She looks tired, but still beautiful. On the other hand, he looks like he sat at the desk in the Foundry all night (which he did) and is still wearing the same suit he was yesterday (which he is). _Hopefully I have an extra shirt and tie in my office._  

“I couldn’t,” he answers. “I might be able to wait to confront my mother until Walter secures the warehouse, but I couldn’t sleep under the same roof.” 

“We’ll figure this out,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee.

“But, until we do,” she continues. “What’s next?”

****

Oliver and Felicity’s impromptu meeting for coffee turns into an almost daily habit over the next week. 

They try to ignore the elephant in the room (aka the yacht in the warehouse) and talk about their QC project and just mundane things. 

Felicity is glad to see on the second morning that Oliver has at least managed a change of clothes, but she’d bet good money that he still hasn’t gone home. 

On Friday, Oliver texts her as she’s parking her car and asks her to come to his office instead of heading to the café. 

Getting off the elevator on his floor, Felicity suddenly has a bad feeling. Something was up. 

When she reaches Oliver’s office door to find not only him inside but also Walter and Mr. Diggle, she knows she’s right. 

“Felicity,” Oliver says, coming to stand next to her his hand resting on the small of her back. She can’t help the shiver that runs through her. “Please, sit.”

As Mr. Diggle closes the door and then shuts all the blinds that line Oliver’s glass encased office, Felicity observes Oliver as he stands next to the sofa where she sits. His face is steely, tension rolling off his body as if he’ll snap at any minute. 

The moment the last blind is shut, Walter speaks and the tone of his voice is something Felicity has never heard come out of the usually happy Englishman’s mouth.

“Josiah Hudson is dead,” he begins. “He never reported for work Wednesday and they discovered his body yesterday afternoon. The police are saying it was a simple automobile accident, but…” Walter trails off. 

“It wasn’t an accident.” Oliver says as he paces, his voice nearly breaking with the anger that’s simmering underneath. “None of this was an accident–” 

“There’s more,” Walter interrupts. 

Oliver stops abruptly and Felicity feels the air in the office go still. The other shoe’s about to drop.

“The Queen’s Gambit is missing.”

The silence is shattered by the crash of Oliver’s office door slamming, the glass cracking from the force.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely overwhelmed with the comments and the love for this story! I can't tell you how happy I am that you're all enjoying it.
> 
> Hopefully this chapter lives up to your expectations. 
> 
> Progress, definitely progress. And more to come.

The crash of the door tears Felicity’s focus from Walter’s words and by the time she turns her head, Oliver is already two-thirds of the way down the hall. 

Jumping to her feet, Felicity doesn’t even hesitate to follow Oliver, but before she can take more than a few steps Mr. Diggle’s voice stops her.

“You won’t catch him.” Reaching into his pocket, Mr. Diggle retrieves a key card that allows the elevator to access the roof level and tosses it to her. “Try the roof.”

With a tight smile, Felicity nods at Mr. Diggle and leaves the office, heading for the elevator. Her heart is hammering in her chest as the elevator climbs the 15 additional floors to the roof. 

When the door opens, Felicity sees the door to the stairwell is propped open and Oliver is perched 25 feet in front of her on one of the walls that protect the building’s air conditioning units.

 _How did he get up here so fast?_ She wonders, thinking how long it would take her to climb 15 flights.

“So, we know you can slam doors with like ridiculous force, but did you also learn to fly at some point?” Felicity asks, approaching Oliver.

_Really, how is he already up here, not at all looking like he just sprinted up 15 flights?_

Oliver laughs, looking down to where she stands. “No, not fly. Just run really fast.”

They fall silent for a moment, watching as Starling City slowly comes to life in the pre-dawn darkness below them.

“I never thought it would be like this. I never, not in a million years, thought this would be part of this whole screwed up mystery. I never thought it would be an inside job…” he says, still looking straight ahead. 

Oliver pauses, but Felicity remains silent, not sure what to say, not quite sure what he’s referring to.

_Inside job?_

“You overheard my argument with Diggle that afternoon. When I said that nothing good happened for the five years I was away, that everyone was better off not knowing. I told you at the warehouse that I wasn’t always on the island…You know, you’re the first person I ever told that to.”

Felicity looks up sharply, watching him as he talks. She can’t describe the feeling that goes through her when he says this. She wants to cry for him, but she wants to smile too, because he trusts her. And most of all, she’d like to wrap her arms around him and tell him everything was going to be all right.

And that’s when she realizes. Somewhere between their discovery of the Queen’s Gambit and tonight, Felicity had given up on trying to deny that her feelings for Oliver were something more than those of an acquaintance or colleague. 

“It’s true. Everyone is better off not knowing. I know it’s no use, though, trying to convince you that I haven’t seen things, done things that have irrevocably changed me. But, Felicity, in everything that I went through – in every awful thing that happened – I never thought the ship sinking was anything other than an accident.”

“Oliver…” she says quietly, raising her hand to rest on his knee.

Grasping her hand, Oliver suddenly jumps down from his perch. “I need to know,” he says, before taking her other hand and facing her. “I need to know how my mother is involved in this…because if she is it means those five years weren’t just some cruel twist of fate. If she is, it changes everything.”

The longer he talks, the closer he gets until his face is so close to hers that their foreheads are almost touching. His hands grasp hers like she’s an anchor.

“Felicity, I…”

The air around Felicity’s head buzzes, like it did that night at the Rockets game, the same startlingly blue eyes staring at her, the same lips so close. Felicity can’t look away, can’t tear her eyes from the haunted look permeating his features.

“Oliver.” 

****

“Oliver.”

Walter’s voice from the stairwell door breaks the moment, causing Oliver to drop Felicity’s hands and step away abruptly. He immediately feels the loss of her presence as she presses her back against the wall behind her, wrapping her arms around her middle in the cool morning air. 

He sees the brief look of recognition pass over Walter’s face, but it’s gone almost as soon as it appears. “Oliver – I confronted your mother before I came here this morning.”

The air goes out of Oliver’s lungs. This situation didn’t have the potential of spiraling out of control anymore. It was vastly out of control. A man was dead and the Queen’s Gambit was missing. Someone knew. And now they were eliminating the variables. But was his mother really capable of this?

“She didn’t deny salvaging the Queen’s Gambit. But she refused to explain why.”

Oliver’s heart sinks. Any chance to disassociate his mother from this was gone.

“I didn’t tell her that you and Ms. Smoak were with me at the warehouse and I’m glad I didn’t. She said I’d angered people with influence, that what I’m doing isn’t safe, that I’m out of my depth.”

Walter takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets.

“She’s right about one thing Oliver. It’s not safe. Josiah is dead, and even if I don’t trust anything your mother might say to me now, I think we need to consider whether it’s worth looking into this further.”

Oliver wants to scream. Of course they need to keep investigating. But Walter was right, the situation had turned dangerous. And who were these ‘people with influence’ they’d angered? What _was_ his mother involved in?

“I’ve decided that I need some time. Some time away from your mother,” Walter stammers. “I’m leaving this afternoon to visit some of our subsidiaries in Australia and I’ll be gone at least a week. Please, Oliver, please don’t look into this any further while I’m away. I’d never forgive myself if any harm were to come to you or Ms. Smoak.”

Oliver can’t respond. Can’t lie to Walter because he knows he won’t be able to stop himself from getting to the bottom of this. So he just nods, holding his hand out to shake Walter’s.

“Have a good trip,” Oliver says before Walter turns and walks back into the building. 

Oliver stands silently watching Walter’s retreating form when Felicity’s voice interrupts his thoughts. 

“We’re not actually going to stop investigating, are we?”

_No, they weren’t. But how was he going to keep them all safe in the process?_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just absolutely overwhelmed by your comments and your kudos. I know we were all a little disappointed by Walter's interruption towards the end of the last chapter.
> 
> I hope I've made it up to you. :-)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I adore your comments.

_“Felicity, I…”_

_The only thing Oliver feels at that moment is Felicity’s hands in his, her face a breath away. And then her lips meet his and he has no worries, no panic. No reasons why they shouldn’t, no danger. Just her lips slanting over his, his hands in her hair. Her soft sigh only making him want to keep kissing her and never stop._

“Ollie!”

Oliver jolts awake, nearly falling off the sofa in the process. For a few seconds he can’t remember where he is, or even what day it is. All he can think about is how much he wished his dream had been real, that Walter hadn’t interrupted them. 

“Ollie!” 

He knows that voice.

_Shit. Thea._

“Ollie, I know you’re here and I’m not leaving until you come out!”

Standing and shoving his feet into his shoes, Oliver yanks the door of Verdant’s second-floor office open and looks down. Thea is standing in front of the bar, hands on her hips staring up at him. And she does not look happy.

“Thea, aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Oliver asks, walking down the stairs.

Thea shrugs, a smirk on her face. “I’ll get there. Eventually. Plus you’ve got a lot of room to talk Mr. four-times college dropout. 

Oliver sighs. God love her, but with everything else going on the last thing he needs is Thea’s teenage drama.

“Hey, learn from my mistakes, don’t repeat them,” he says, bending down to kiss her cheek. “So, what can I do for you?” 

“You can come home. Mom is driving me nuts and Walter’s only been gone for four days,” she says with a groan. “Seriously, he only went on a business trip. You’d think by the way she’s acting that he went on a 6 month mission to outer space. Not that you’d know…since you haven’t been home in weeks.”

“I’ve been busy,” Oliver says. It’s not really a lie, just not the whole truth. And he certainly can’t tell Thea that he’s been camped out at Verdant because their mother may be involved in having their father killed. Or at least in the cover up. 

“Sure you have,” Thea retorts with a smirk. “Working on your ‘project’, right? That just happens to involve a very pretty, very blonde IT Girl who looks a lot like the girl you made out with at the Rockets game?” 

Oliver’s heart beats a little faster at Thea’s mention of Felicity. If only his avoidance of home was that simple – that enjoyable of a reason.

“Thea…” Oliver says with a warning in his tone. 

“I know, I know…you’re a very busy, responsible businessman now. Not screw up, playboy Oliver Queen,” Thea grumbles. “But, come on Ollie, you need to at least make an appearance at home – no matter how busy you are.” 

Oliver knows Thea’s right. He can’t avoid his mother forever. He’d been dodging her phone calls, only answering when he felt it was absolutely necessary and then speaking as minimally as possible, using Verdant as an excuse for his absence. 

“All right,” Oliver says, not knowing how to get out of this one. “I promise I’ll stop by the house.”

“Today?” Thea asks.

“Tomorrow. Next day at the latest.” Oliver says.

“Fine,” Thea says, rolling her eyes. 

Beyond Thea, Oliver sees Dig walk through the front door of Verdant.

Hearing the door behind her, Thea turns. “Well. That’s my cue to leave you to your busy life.” 

“School, Thea.” Oliver says, giving his sister a quick hug and pointing her towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah…Don’t forget your promise.”

****

“When’s the last time you slept in a real bed? And secondly, when’s the last time your clothes saw an iron?” Dig asks as Oliver makes his way down the stairs to the Foundry.

Glancing down at himself, Oliver has to admit that he’s rather rumpled, but sleeping in your clothes will do that. 

“It’s been awhile…” Oliver says, sitting at table holding his arrows and turning the chair towards Dig. “But then again, I did survive five years without the guarantee of either.” 

“True,” Dig retorts. “But, you do know you’re not on the island anymore…or wherever else you were during that time.”

Oliver looks up abruptly.

“Oh, calm down. I’m not going to ask and I’m not going to antagonize you today. But if you think I wouldn’t figure out you weren’t always on that island…” Dig trails off, giving Oliver a look of bemused annoyance. 

“Right…” Oliver says.

“So, how was your evening?” Dig asks.

“Pretty calm,” Oliver replies. “Stopped a couple robberies, did a little reconnaissance on one of the names on the list. Low life criminal that I flagged on one of my very first searches – he’s got a long rap sheet.”

“How about you?” Oliver asks. “Anything out of the ordinary?”

Dig sighs. “Sorry man, nothing strange. Your mother hasn’t gone to see anyone out of the norm. No suspicious phone calls.”

“Thea came here to complain that she’s being difficult…and to scold me for my absence from the house. I had to promise that I’d stop by. But my mother being difficult isn’t out of the ordinary, especially under the circumstances. Walter’s left…”

“Right,” Dig says. “So, we’re still pretty much at square one. Has Felicity had any luck?”

“She’s working on it,” Oliver says. “But it’s going to take a few days.”

_“I’m not a miracle worker, Oliver. I may be a computer genius and QC might have a pretty impressive system, but nothing is instantaneous.”_ Oliver grins at the memory from two nights before when Felicity had all but kicked him out of her office. 

“What’s so funny?” Dig asks, breaking Oliver out of his thoughts. 

“Nothing,” Oliver hedges, trying and failing in wiping the grin from his face.

Dig just looks at him, eyebrow raised.

“Oh, just– fine. Felicity. She knows I’m impatient. She kicked me out of her office the other night after the search had been running for a few hours and still hadn’t turned up anything. Reminded me she’s ‘not a miracle worker.’”

“So you haven’t seen her in more than 48 hours?” Dig asks.

“Uh, no…”Oliver admits, sheepishly. _Go ahead Dig, make fun._ “I brought her coffee yesterday morning. And we’re meeting for lunch today.” 

“I see your ‘keep her at arms length’ plan is still intact.” 

_Yeah, my plan. Not if my dreams have anything to say about it._

“I – I…yeah.” Oliver says, struggling for a response. “I can’t…”

“You can’t what?” Dig asks, crossing his arms. 

“Fine…fine.” Oliver sighs, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “I can’t deny anymore that I feel something for her. That this is different. And that no, this wasn’t part of my plan.”

Oliver stands and stalks toward the salmon ladder at the other end of the Foundry before turning back around and facing Dig.

“You’re right. I wasn’t always on the island,” he says, taking a deep breath. “And those years were hell – in ways that I can’t even begin to explain. That I may never be ready to explain. And when I came back I thought I could just go back to being the old Ollie Queen by day and fulfill my promise to my Dad at night. That that was the way to do this. But the moment I got off the plane from China I knew my plan wasn’t going to work.” 

The words are spilling out of Oliver’s mouth now as he paces in front of the salmon ladder, his resolve to keep absolutely everything buried gone. 

“The thought of falling back into that life was repulsive. I was an asshole before the island. I was a terrible son, a lousy brother and a pathetic boyfriend. Despite all his flaws, all our disagreements, I thought about what my father would say if he saw me revert right back to my old self, even if I was a different person inside, a different person under the cover of darkness.”

“And then I saw Tommy. Saw how he’d grown up, that he wasn’t the same irresponsible frat boy anymore. And I saw Laurel. Saw her anger – realized that any image of her that I held on to all those years was just an illusion. Saw her and Tommy together – happy in a way we never were and never could be. And Thea…Thea was turning into the spoiled, irresponsible person I once was.” 

“So I chose to be a better Oliver Queen and be the vigilante. And after laying the groundwork for both, I realized the book and QC were probably connected. But, Dig, through all of this – even the start of our relationship – I was, I am still acting, playing the part of Oliver Queen. Just a different version.”

“But Felicity was completely unexpected. That kiss at the basketball game was the spark, but she’s the only person since I came back who treats me as…myself. Just another human. Not Ollie, returned from the dead. Not Oliver Queen, billionaire heir. Just me. No questions. No judgment. She sees through the act. Ignores it entirely.”

Oliver finally stops speaking, stops pacing, looking to where Dig sits across the room, a slight smile on his face.

“So stop acting Oliver. Stop pretending. Be the person Felicity sees. She sees you. Let her.”

 ****

Felicity hears the beeping from down the hall. When she whips into her office and down into her desk chair she realizes it’s a miracle she didn’t spill her coffee in the process. 

_That would have been a real tragedy._

Pulling up the search screen, her eyes widen at the results displayed. Finally. A breakthrough. 

_Oliver. She needs to find Oliver._  

Glancing at the clock on her computer, she figures there’s a good chance he’s in his office already even though it’s barely 7am. She was really starting to doubt that the man ever slept. 

Not that she’d slept much either in the last week. Between waiting for her searches to yield results and worrying about what was exactly going on between her and Oliver, sleep had been hard to come by.

Printing out the results of her search, Felicity leaves her office and rides the elevator to Oliver’s floor. When she gets to his door, she’s puzzled to see that all the blinds in his office windows are pulled. She notices, though, that light is spilling from under the door into the darkened hallway. 

Knocking on the door, Felicity receives no response. Waiting a few seconds she knocks again, noticing that that door is unlocked and not closed completely. 

_You should probably come back later_ , she thinks briefly before remembering the information she holds in her hand.

“Oliver?” she asks, nudging the door open and peeking her head inside.

Oliver is standing with his back to her, holding something in his hand, looking out the wall of windows that line the exterior wall of his office. 

It’s when she opens the door further that she realizes the item in Oliver’s hand is a shirt and he’s standing there only in his dress pants and shoes. 

“Oliver?” she asks again, startling him from his thoughts, his body turning to face her. 

As Oliver turns, Felicity’s brain finally catches up with what it’s seeing. Scars. So many scars. 

_Oh god. What did they do to you? How did you survive this?_

“Felicity?”

She barely registers her name. Her eyes are glued to his torso, and she realizes there are tears in her eyes.

“Felicity.”

Oliver’s standing right in front of her now, his voice calling hers louder.

Looking up, she sees an unreadable look on his face. Half fear, half…something else. What, she’s not totally sure.

She only looks at his face for a moment before her focus returns to his torso. The skin mottled and angry. Scars like she’s never seen before, never even imagined. Before she can help herself, her hands are on those scars, one on his chest and the other on his side, tracing the welts and ridged skin. 

The tears that were collected in her eyes are now streaming down her face. And she finally understands. Understands the pain underneath Oliver’s exterior. Understands all of his half-spoken truths.

“Felicity,” Oliver whispers, tipping her chin up with his hand. “Felicity, it’s okay. Please, I know it’s awful. I know they’re ugly.”

_Awful. Ugly._

Those are the words that break her out of her stupor.

The words that send her hands from his torso into his closely cropped hair, her mouth to his.

The papers in her hands have long since fallen to the floor, dropped there all but forgotten. The only witness to Felicity pouring every ounce of herself into a kiss determined to prove that Oliver’s scars of survival are far from ugly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been a very bad author, I know. I left you hanging. There's no worthy excuse other than work has been crazy. I'm the marketing director for a university's school of theatre and the new performance season started and...yeah. Also, that last scene in the season 4 premiere sent me for a loop and I needed to recover from that. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm back! And I think you're going to like this chapter. :-)
> 
> Please note that there is a section in italics that Oliver is remembering from the very recent past.
> 
> I love your comments and am so grateful to all my readers. You make my day.

The darkened halls of Queen Consolidated echo in silence as Oliver makes his way from the parking garage to his office.

The quiet is such a departure from the usual hustle of QC. The darkness of the halls and offices is the opposite of the sun drenched brightness usually reflected through the building’s all-glass construction during the day 

But it’s a different quiet, a different darkness from that of the Queen Mansion he’s just departed. That silence was uncomfortable, full of secrets and lies. A darkness obscuring a past life he’s not so sure of anymore. 

The darkness of a house that’s no longer home.

It’s a startling revelation. For five years, it was one of the things Oliver yearned for most: to go home. Home to his family, to Laurel, to Tommy, to his house, to his life. And even as time went on and he realized that his life would never be the same, that he simply couldn’t return, he never stopped yearning for home.

But walking through the front door of the Queen Mansion the evening before was like walking into a foreign country. Nothing looked the same, nothing felt the same. The curtain had been pulled back, the wizard revealed. 

Sighing, Oliver tosses his suit jacket over his desk and kicks off his shoes as he makes his way to the sofa on the far side of his office. This is not where he expected to be at 3am. But, then again, he doesn’t know where he’s supposed to be anymore.

He’s not proud of the fact that he snuck out of the mansion, that he couldn’t even make it 12 hours. But he couldn’t stay one moment longer. Not with all the questions swirling around in his mind, the unknown lurking in the house’s shadows.

 _Thea will not be pleased,_ he thinks as he flops down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

_The evening had started out as well as could be expected. It was uncomfortable and he had to mask his true feelings, but he could make it. He’d faked his way through more difficult things before._

_He wasn’t ready to confront his mother though. He needed more information, more details, more evidence before he could say anything to her, no matter how angry he was._

_After a dinner full of stagnant small talk and after Thea had abandoned them for her bedroom, Oliver’s strength was flagging and he was counting down the minutes until he could escape upstairs. But his mother had other plans._  

_“Oliver, would you like to explain your recent behavior to me now that Thea is no longer in the room?” Moira asks, following Oliver from the dining room to the living room. “You haven’t been home in weeks. Not even for a hello.”_

_Taking a deep breath, Oliver turns towards his mother, a mask of calm, of innocence on his face. “I’ve just been busy at QC and at Verdant,” he lies. “It’s been easier to just sleep at the club. Plus, it’s closer to QC than here.”_

_Moira levels Oliver a disapproving look. “I wish you would leave the club alone and focus entirely on Queen Consolidated. That is where you need to be. Not playing businessman with Tommy. You need to be a real businessman. You’re going to be CEO soon.”_

_“Eventually,” Oliver sighs, running his hand through his short hair. “But not yet. I’ve hardly been back long enough to take over. And I have things I want to accomplish before I make that leap.”_

_“Ah, yes.” Moira replies, her lips pursed. “Your special project. Walter has told me all about it. Your ‘audit.’ And about your new ‘friend’ too – Ms. Smoak is her name, correct? I assume she’s beautiful as well as brilliant? Walter is certainly a fan.”_

_Something about his mother’s tone made Oliver uncomfortable. Her cynicism was unnerving. And he didn’t like what she was implying._

_“Walter sees the potential for Felicity’s brilliance. And I’m grateful for her friendship.” He says, before changing the subject._

_“Speaking of Walter, I haven’t talked to him since a couple days after he left. Do you know when he’ll be back?” Oliver asks, waiting to see how his mother will respond._

_“Business is taking longer than expected,” Moira responds, “and he doesn’t know when he’ll be able to leave our holdings in Australia.”_

_“Well, I’m sure he’ll be home soon,” Oliver replies, “I’ll have to call him to check in. Share some of the findings of my project.”_

_“He’s very busy,” Moira replies abruptly._

_“Yes. I’m sure he is.” Oliver replies cautiously, not sure what to make of his mother’s behavior. “Well, I think I’m going to bed,” he says turning to leave the room. “Felicity and I are starting on an audit of a new server early tomorrow morning.”_

_“Oliver?” His mother’s voice makes him turn back. “Walter may think this audit of yours and Ms. Smoak’s is a good idea. But Queen Consolidated is a complicated company. And sometimes it’s best to move forward and leave the past buried.”_

_“Goodnight Oliver. I know you’ll do what’s best.”_

****

Despite his swirling thoughts and his unease at his encounter with his mother, Oliver manages to fall asleep, waking as the first dim hints of pink begin suffusing the sky. 

Hauling himself up off the sofa, he sees that it’s nearly 7. He may as well change his clothes and get to work. He has a few names he can search while waiting for Felicity’s research to yield some results. 

Closing the blinds on his office windows, he grabs the garment bag on the back of his door and starts changing, looking out on the Starling City skyline as he changes.

With just his shirt left to put on, he’s suddenly struck by the irony of his mother’s parting words. 

 _“…sometimes it’s best to move forward and leave the past buried.”_  

Right, he thinks. Just like she left the Queen’s Gambit buried? And her attitude regarding Walter was…worrying. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But something was off.

Lost in thought, Oliver doesn’t hear the knock at his door and is still standing, back to the door and shirt in his hands, when Felicity enters.

“Oliver?”

“Oliver?” She says again, louder, startling him from his thoughts. 

Turning towards the door, Oliver notices Felicity’s hands are full of papers. _Good_ , he thinks, _maybe she’s found something._

Before he can say anything, he notices that she’s stopped abruptly and is staring. That’s when he realizes that he’s still holding his shirt in his hands and nothing is obscuring the ugly scars that crisscross his torso. He’d stare in horror too if he were her. But part of him realized that he hoped that if anyone could accept him for who he was, scars and all, that it would be Felicity.

“Oh, god, what did they do to you?” she mumbles.

“Felicity?” Oliver asks, startled. Maybe his hope wasn’t in vain. _Maybe._

Felicity doesn’t move and Oliver’s sure there are tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Her face is unreadable, wide eyes a mix of horror and something else.

“Felicity,” Oliver says louder, coming to stand right in front of her.

Her eyes snap to his for a moment and before another thought can pass through his brain her hands are on his chest, on his side, her fingers tracing his scars. Somewhere the papers in her hands have fluttered to the floor at their feet. Closing his eyes, he focuses on the lightning bolts of feeling her touch sends through his body.

When he opens his eyes again he sees that tears are openly streaming down her face. No, Felicity shouldn’t cry for him. Not for this ugliness.

“Felicity,” Oliver whispers, tipping her chin up with his hand. “Felicity, it’s okay. Please, I know it’s awful. I know they’re ugly.”

His words seem to break her out of her stupor and suddenly she is up on her tiptoes, her hands in his hair, her mouth covering his in a fierceness he wasn’t expecting. 

It only takes Oliver a millisecond to respond, before his shirt is on the floor along with her papers and his hands are woven through her hair, her ponytail only a memory.

His mouth slanting over Felicity’s, nipping at her bottom lip, he brings his hands to either side of her face, cupping her cheeks. Kissing her in this moment overshadows whatever memories he had of kissing Felicity at that basketball game. This is what kissing should be.

Felicity pulls away slightly, nuzzling her face against his.

"They're not ugly. You're not ugly, Oliver." She whispers, before melding her mouth back over his.

If Oliver weren't so occupied kissing her senseless, he might actually cry. Or laugh. Or both.

It’s then that he realizes that the doubts he had about this, about letting her in have vanished. He’s done fighting this. He lets go. And he's never felt better.

****

“Hi.” Felicity says with a soft smile, leaning back from where she sits perched on Oliver’s lap. At some point in their make-out session they moved from the middle of his office to the sofa, sitting and kissing until the sun had fully risen over the horizon.

“Hi,” Oliver responds, brushing another kiss across her lips. 

Looking up at his face, Felicity wonders whether they could just shut out the world and sit here all day when she suddenly remembers why she came to his office in the first place.

Standing abruptly, she diffuses his confused and hurt look with a kiss before scraping her hair back into a ponytail and walking to grab the papers she dropped earlier off the floor. Grabbing his shirt as well, she tosses it to him before standing in front of the sofa.

“Felicity…what…” Oliver starts, a question in his voice. 

Reaching out for his hand, she squeezes it briefly before she starts talking. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. As much as I’d love to sit here and make out with my super hot boss – um friend –um –” 

Oliver mutters something nearly unintelligible, but if her hearing is as good as she claims, she swears he said “boyfriend?”. 

“Uh, uh – all day,” she stutters, continuing, “but it’s almost 8 and this floor is going to be packed with people soon. And I just remembered what I came up here to tell you.”

Suddenly, Oliver’s attention is squarely on the papers in her hands, his interest piqued.

“So, as I explained to you the other day, the search I was working on was extensive and complicated and attempted to cross reference every facet of the suspect transactions you and Walter brought to my attention.” 

“In the process of looking into the transactions I discovered that we’re not the only ones who have researched them. Another entity, that broke through QC’s servers more than a year ago ran nearly the same searches we are now. And whoever it is is good – like NSA good.” 

“But, as you know, I’m good too,” Felicity says.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Oliver smirks.

“Ugh, filter. That is not what I meant and you know it, buster!”

“Anyway. I was able to back hack them, but they left barely a trace. All usable information was wiped. But what little information was left was coded with an image – a symbol.”

Grabbing the last page in her stack of papers, Felicity hands it to Oliver, the round image with crisscrossing lines emblazoned on the page. 

After what seems like an eternity, Oliver finally looks back up at her, his face guarded, almost too calm. 

“Have you ever seen that image?” Felicity asks, almost dreading his answer.

“I, um – ”

****

Oliver feels sick. Which is definitely not the feeling he was expecting after a nearly hour long make-out session with Felicity. Maybe if he kissed her he could distract her? Buy himself more time?

No, not Felicity.

He had a decision to make. 

Should he tell the truth? Tell her he had seen the symbol before?

Or lie? Fall right back into his habit, shut out the growing light in his ever present darkness?

“I, um– ”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver opens up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, I can't thank you all enough for your support and wonderful comments and kudos. Knowing that you're enjoying this story is what drives me to write it. Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading.
> 
> Originally, this chapter was going to cover a lot more ground, but Oliver had a lot to say.
> 
> More coming very soon. :-)

Time seems to slow down.

Suddenly the nightmare that’s been brewing for weeks – a nightmare he would have never thought possible – has taken another step closer to coming true. His mother is somehow related to the sinking of the Queen’s Gambit and now the book, the list he’s largely based his mission on, is tied to it too. 

Part of Oliver wants to laugh. All of his carefully constructed plans, the secrecy, the misdirection, have been rendered moot. 

And he’s going to have to tell Felicity about the book. 

No, not have to. Needs to. He needs to tell her about the book. She deserves the truth. Or at least most of it. 

He can’t tell her about his nighttime activities. 

Not…not yet. 

“You _have_ seen it, haven’t you?” Felicity asks, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Gripping the papers in his hands, Oliver realizes he still hasn’t spoken. Still hasn’t answered Felicity’s original question about the image on the paper. 

“Yes.” Oliver says quietly, watching as Felicity’s already wide eyes grow impossibly wider. 

“Yes?” Felicity asks, a little breathless.

“Yes, I have seen it before.” 

“Where? How? I mean, what does it mean?” Felicity asks rapidly.

_What does it mean?_ He wishes he knew. Ironically, of all the secrets he keeps, of what he does know, that is something he doesn’t.

“I don’t know what it means,” he admits, taking a deep breath and sitting down heavily on the sofa. Funny, he doesn’t even remember standing up. 

“I…” he begins, grasping at how to begin. 

“Do you – do you remember after we first me at the Rockets game, how I came to your office and asked you to help me save QC?” Even in the midst of this difficult conversation, Oliver can’t prevent the warm feeling that floods through him when he thinks of meeting Felicity. 

Felicity’s wide, apprehensive eyes soften and she nods, smiling. 

“I told you that when I came back I vowed to do everything in my power to make QC succeed? I wish I were that noble enough to have come to that decision on my own. The prodigal son returning to take up the QC mantle and save the company, save the family…”

“But it wasn’t like that. My time away didn’t suddenly turn me into a model human being. It snuffed the selfishness and immaturity right out of me and then it damaged me in ways I could have never imagined.”

Oliver rises from the sofa and reaches to where Felicity stands in front of him. Taking her by the forearms, he switches their positions, guiding her to sit down. In doing so, he completely overlooks the emotions on her face. A mixture of pain and confusion, tears threatening to spill. 

Once she’s seated, Oliver starts pacing and the words begin tumbling out. 

“I’ve seen that image before because I wasn’t the only survivor when the Queen’s Gambit sank,” he says.

“What?” Felicity asks, the confusion on her face intensifying.

Holding up his hand, Oliver silently pleads with her to let him continue.

“I wasn’t the only one to make it to the life raft. Three of us did. A crewmember, my father, and me. We drifted for days and soon what little supplies we had were dwindling. I had fallen asleep at one point and woke up to my father arguing with the crewmember. I finally managed to open my eyes when the gun went off. He had shot the crewmember, his body falling overboard.” 

Oliver pauses in his pacing to look at Felicity, finally noticing the tears in her eyes and taking in the horrified expression on her face. The whole sordid tale is flooding out of his mouth. A tale he’s never fully told anyone. 

“My father started talking rapidly, almost manically. He was apologizing, saying he thought he’d have more time, that he wasn’t the man I thought he was. That he didn’t help build Starling, he failed it.”

“I tried to calm him down, but nothing worked. He said that I needed to survive. That I needed to go home, right his wrongs, make it better. I didn’t understand. But before I had even a moment to process what he was saying, the gun was against his temple. He said one word, ‘survive,’ and pulled the trigger.”

Oliver tries to squash down the memories of that moment, of his father’s body in the raft for days, of the horror he felt, of the relief when Lian Yu finally came into view. How stupid he had been. How naïve. Ollie Queen had never had anything truly bad happen to him. It had never even entered his consciousness. Life was a game, a playground. Until it wasn’t. 

Felicity remains silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“I’m not really sure how much longer I drifted, my father’s body on the other side of the raft.”

“Oh, Oliver,” Felicity exclaims softly, her hand reaching out and grabbing his. 

Looking down at his hand in Felicity’s he wishes he could wave a magic wand and make her understand everything, know everything, without having to go through the pain and doubt of explaining it. That he could absolve them both of the accompanying baggage and trauma, of the very real danger swirling around them and the city. But he knows too that if he’d never ended up on Lian Yu that he probably would have never left Ollie behind. He also knows that if Felicity, if anyone, knew everything he’d done and experienced in those 5 years, that they would run and never turn back.

His hand still in Felicity’s, Oliver continues. “When the raft finally washed up on shore, I managed to get out and find some fresh water. But when I got back to the beach, the birds were swarming around the raft. They were…”

Oliver closes his eyes for a moment, forcing the grisly memory out of his mind.

“I had to bury him. But before I did, I checked his pockets, to make sure there wasn’t anything useful or important. There was this book, in his jacket pocket. Small, like a journal. It was weird. You could tell it was well made, but also well used, like it had been opened and closed hundreds of times. But the pages were blank. All of them but one, the first one. It had a symbol, a round grid...” 

“This symbol,” Oliver says, holding up the papers Felicity had given him. 

Felicity squeezes his hand, a thousand questions on her face. But he’s not done. He needs to tell her about the names.

“A few weeks after washing up on the island, I was in this cave. I was hungry and exhausted and had absolutely no idea what I was going to do. I was dreaming or hallucinating – maybe both – of ripping pages out of the book and throwing them into the fire. But before I could burn more than one page, my father was there, yanking me away from the fire asking what I thought I was doing, why I wasn’t trying to survive as he had told me to…”

Oliver knew he wasn’t telling her the whole truth, omitting Yao Fei and the how he came to be in the cave, but he wasn’t ready yet. And right now there just wasn’t time. 

“He handed me the gun he had shot himself with and told be to end it if I didn’t think I could survive, but that if I did his death would be meaningless. I grabbed the gun and put it to my head and pulled the trigger.” 

Suddenly Felicity is standing, her free hand coming to rest on his cheek, the other squeezing his like a vice. He keeps talking, looking directly into her eyes. 

“Nothing happened, of course. It wasn’t real. But my father was there, scolding me for betraying him by pulling the trigger. For making his sacrifice empty. He kept saying, ‘right my wrongs.’ And right before I woke up he told me that this was my responsibility now.”

When he looks back on it now, Oliver isn’t entirely sure that his father wasn’t really somehow in that cave with him, sending him a message that he needed in that moment to find the strength to survive. 

“I had kept the book close since I had found it, either in my pocket or in my hands. When I woke I was clutching it and I mindlessly tore a page out of the middle and started to hold it over the fire. But something made me pause before tossing it in. That’s when it happened.” 

“What happened?” Felicity asked, caressing his face, urging him to finish his story.

“The page wasn’t blank anymore. Words were appearing in this odd colored ink. They were literally appearing out of thin air. And they weren’t just words. They were names. I took the book and held it up to the fire to try to make the same thing occur on the other pages. Every page was full. Name after name. And that’s when I knew I’d survive. That my father wasn’t just spouting desperate nonsense. He had given me something important. I didn’t know what it meant. But it was something.”

****

“This is what it’s been about the whole time, isn’t it?” Felicity asks, as her thumb rubs soft circles into Oliver’s cheek.

Major pieces of the puzzle that is Oliver Queen have suddenly clicked into place.

“All the searches, the random names, the odd requests...” 

Oliver nods against her hand, his eyes searching hers. 

In another situation, she might be upset – angry even – that she had been used, lied to. She’s not. He withheld the facts of what he was actually looking for and she knows with complete certainty that there’s a lot more he hasn’t told her and may never tell her. But she also knows that his intentions are good. He does care about QC and his city and his family.

_And he cares about you,_ her heart whispers. _That’s why he’s telling you this._

“As soon as I started looking through the book, I realized I knew dozens of the names in the list. Some were family friends, others were employees of QC or other prominent Starling City business people. When I returned home, I realized that they had to be connected to QC somehow. I muddled through searches in the first few weeks I was home, but I was getting nowhere fast, no matter how much I wanted to think otherwise.”

“But then you met me,” Felicity says matter-of-factly, a small smile on her face. “And you knew I could help with your project.” 

“Felicity…” Oliver whispers, drawing their faces closer and resting his forehead against hers. “When I met you I already knew you were brilliant and talented. I hoped you could help with my project. I quickly learned you are an amazing kisser…” 

Felicity feels her face flush at her words and can see he’s grinning, his eyes crinkling.

“Am I?” She asks, teasingly. 

“Yes,” he replies, quickly pecking her on the lips. “But what I didn’t know is that you would help me with far more than just my project. That you’d become my friend too. You’ve helped me find me again. And you’re the first person since I came back that I’ve been able to see as a person. No ulterior motives, no fine print." 

“I’ve never told anyone that story before,” he says. 

Felicity can’t help the warmth that spreads through her at his words.

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

“For what?” He asks. 

“For trusting me,” she replies. “For letting me be your friend.”

"You're so much more than just my friend, Felicity..." Oliver says, the words hanging in the air.

Felicity only has a moment to register the butterflies in her stomach when the nearly non-existent distance between their faces is erased as Oliver slants his mouth over hers, wrapping his arms around her. The papers, which have largely defined the last few hours, once again hit the floor with a rustle. The symbol and all its implications momentarily forgotten. 

They kiss lazily, slowly, and Felicity realizes she’s never quite been kissed just like this. The calm of this kiss is powerful and just feeling his lips on hers make goosebumps explode on her skin.

After a few minutes, noises from the hall outside intrude on their privacy and Oliver’s hand comes to rest on her cheek. 

“As much as I’d like to do this all day…” he says with a grin, mimicking her earlier words. 

“Right,” she says, drawing backwards. “Company to run, mysteries to solve.” 

Grabbing his shirt from the sofa, Oliver finally puts it on while Felicity picks up the once again discarded papers from the floor.

“We’ll figure this out,” she says, gesturing to the image. “We’ll figure everything out.”

And she means it. They will get to the bottom of everything. She won’t stop until they do. Because whether Oliver Queen realizes it or not, he is a good man and he always was, even before the island.

Despite all the secrets she knows he’s still keeping and how he thinks the island damaged him, he deserves vindication and explanation for _his_ suffering and not just answers to fulfill his father's last wish. And she was going to help him find it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in absolute awe of the response to this story. You are all amazing. 
> 
> I own nothing but my own words. WB, the CW and DC own everything.

_Why did I think a nightclub was a good idea?_ Oliver thinks as the music thumps from the dance floor over his head.

Sitting in the dark foundry and staring into space wasn’t helping his throbbing headache. And neither was the sorry excuse for music permeating from Verdant’s dance floor. It had been a long day. A very long day. And he had accomplished absolutely nothing.

Sighing, Oliver scrubbed his hands through his cropped hair, wishing he could go back to that morning. Back to the oblivion of kissing Felicity in his office, his mind full of nothing but how her lips felt against his, how her hands traced his scarred torso. But he couldn’t. Not now at least.

Instead he’s consumed with thoughts of the last 24 hours, of his mother’s increasingly odd behavior and Felicity’s revelation about the image in the book. The mystery was deepening fast and everything indicated that his mother knew a lot more than she was letting on about how it was all connected. And now Felicity knew more than he’d ever intended to tell her, to tell anyone.

But…he’s glad she knows. It feels right. And deep down he knows he’ll tell her more. Maybe not everything. But more.

The flush of happiness he feels when thinking of Felicity diminishes when his thoughts turn to Walter.

Walter is another story entirely. Something is off.

His mother’s demeanor when he’d asked about Walter the night before isn’t what he had expected. Rather than worried, she was almost evasive. And that coupled with the fact that Oliver hasn’t spoken to Walter in nearly 10 days is concerning. While Oliver had corresponded with Walter via email, all his calls went unanswered. And his assistant provided little help beyond telling Oliver that ‘Mr. Steele is in meetings and is unable to speak to you at the moment.’  

Oliver _had_ received emails from Walter, but they were brief and all business. And any question Oliver had asked recently about when Walter expected to return home went unanswered. 

_Almost like Walter’s not the one answering the emails._

Oliver’s stomach drops, the aura of dread he’s felt since the night before intensifying alarmingly.

He wants to slam his fist against the wall. Of course. _Of course_ Walter is in danger and no amount of distance would protect him. Not when whoever was behind this sunk a yacht in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

But Oliver doesn’t punch the wall. Instead he grabs the phone from the table in front of him.

“Dig? I think we have a problem.”

****

Felicity can’t wait to go home. With all the investigating she and Oliver had been doing, Felicity had spent one too many 12-hour days at work and it was taking its toll. And after a day like today she needs her comfy pajama pants, a nice glass of red wine and a few episodes of Doctor Who on Netflix..

In addition to a final brief kiss, Felicity had left Oliver’s office that morning with a pointed promise that they’d continue their conversation later. _And hopefully the kissing too._

But it wasn’t to be. 

Instead, they’d both been launched into a seemingly endless workday. Oliver had called around noon to let her know that any chance to sneak away to discuss the book had gone out the window. Walter’s absence and the widespread knowledge that Oliver would eventually take over as CEO had made him the most popular person in the building. And it seemed that everyone had a burning fire that needed solved. 

Down in the IT department, Felicity had had her own fire to put out and any plans to look into the image were derailed. A major malfunction with one of QC’s main servers meant that it was all hands on deck until the problem was solved.

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Felicity exits her department’s suite of offices and heads for the elevators. Consumed with thoughts of sinking into the soft cushions of her sofa, she’s slow to notice the elevator doors opening to the ground floor. When she looks up she’s momentarily startled by the figure on the other side of the doors. 

Malcolm Merlyn. 

“Oh, sorry,” Felicity murmurs, moving out of his way and exiting the elevator.

“Ms. Smoak,” Merlyn says, nodding as he moves past her with barely another glance. 

_Weird._ Felicity thinks as she looks at her watch. _What is Malcolm Merlyn doing at QC at 8 o’clock in the evening?_

It’s not until she’s unlocking her front door 25 minutes later that she realizes he knew her name.

****

“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Dig asks with a smirk as Oliver finishes cataloguing his encounter with his mother the night before and Felicity’s discovery of the image in QC’s encrypted files. 

Pausing in his pacing across the foundry floor, Oliver glares at his friend. 

“Right, not the time,” Dig says. “So, what do you want to do?” He asks seriously. 

Sighing Oliver stops, struggling to verbalize the barrage of thoughts swirling through his mind. The truth is, he’s not sure what to do. 

Find Walter.

Confront his mother.

Put arrows in people.

He wants to do all of it. But none are easy options. He can’t very well fly off to Australia without an excuse and if his conversation with his mother the night before taught him anything it was that she wasn’t exactly forthcoming. And putting arrows in people without a reason to do so wasn’t going to make any difference at the moment. And it certainly isn’t going to make him feel better.

What he really needs is to talk to Felicity, to let her optimism seep into his soul and convince him that they are going to get to the bottom of this. 

That they are going to solve this Goddamn puzzle. 

“I need to go talk to my mother.” He finally says, a plan formulating in his mind. 

“But you already did that,” Dig argues, “and you really didn’t get anywhere.” 

“You’re right,” Oliver responds. “But I won’t be going to talk to her as Oliver Queen.” 

**** 

The next evening, Oliver takes deep breaths as he waits for the precise moment to burst into his mother’s office. It’s been another long day but for different reasons than the day before.

He has spent the day at war with himself. He may be suspicious of his mother and still in disbelief that the Queen’s Gambit had been purposefully sunk, but she’s still his mother. 

And he didn’t have Felicity to help him decipher the situation. He couldn’t involve her in this. Not with his alter ego involved. Especially not until he knew more. So, he had avoided her all day, claiming another busy day and asked that she meet him later at Verdant to finally, finally look at the book. 

Oliver had lucked out because even though his mother no longer maintained a employment with QC, she still had an office and often took care of charitable and board business from it in the afternoons and early evenings.

Oliver notes as his mother’s secretary departs for the evening and, taking a final deep breath, springs into action. 

The glass shatters through the darkened office as Oliver careens through the broken window and lands in a crouch in front of his mother’s desk. 

Moira has pushed her desk chair back as far as it will go towards the opposite wall, a look of terror on her face. 

Careful to keep his hood firmly over his face, Oliver stands to his full height, clicks the voice modifier and says, “Moira Queen. You have failed this city.”

“You’re that crazy vigilante killing Starling’s business people.” 

Oliver ignores his mother’s question.

“Are you in the habit of killing your husbands Mrs. Queen?”

“What?” Moira stutters out, “What are you talking about?” 

“The Queen’s Gambit wasn’t an accident, was it?” 

“I – I, of course it was an accident!” Moira exclaims, scrambling next to her for something on her desk. 

“What do you want?” She asks, desperation seeping into her voice. “Please, please, I don’t understand.” 

“Where is Walter Steele?” Oliver shouts, the odd tone the voice modifier caused bouncing off the walls. 

“He’s away. On business.” Suddenly, his mother was holding a photo in her hands. A photo of him and Thea.

“Please. I’m a mother. I have children. Please. Let me go.”

Oliver is momentarily taken aback. _What was he doing?_

While brief, his distraction is enough to miss his mother pulling a small handgun from her desk. As the shot goes off, Oliver manages to duck, but not fast enough. The bullet hits him in the shoulder and in that moment all he can focus on is making a quick exit. 

By the time he has scrambled out the window and to the ground below, blackness is already crowding his vision. His shoulder is on fire and blood, too much blood, was cascading down his arm inside his suit. 

He’ll never make it back to the Foundry, and even if he called Dig, he’d never make it there in time.

He has one chance. And in that moment, Oliver makes a choice. 

****

Felicity’s going to be late.

She promised Oliver she’d meet him at 7 and it’s already 6 and she’ll never be able to stop at her townhouse, change out of her work clothes and get to Verdant in time. Really, though, if you thought about it, it _is_ his fault she’s running late. Sort of. She’d spent so much time that day trying to look more into the image that she’d forgotten about a side project she was working on for Applied Sciences. 

Walking quickly to her car, Felicity flings her bag into the passenger coat, starts the car and throws it into reverse. 

Glancing behind her to make sure there was nothing behind her, Felicity gets the shock of her life. 

“Oh my God!” She exclaims as she takes in the very large figure crammed into the backseat of her very small car.

“Felicity.” The figure groans.

“How – how do you know my name?” She asks, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Because you know mine,” he responds, lifting his hood to reveal his face.

“Oliver!” She half gasps, half whispers. “All the puzzle pieces just clicked into place…” she whispers. 

“Yeah.” Oliver responds, his voice pained. 

“Oh my God, you’re bleeding.”

Using his good arm to grasp and squeeze Felicity’s arm between the driver and passenger seats, Oliver stutters out, “Felicity. You need to listen to me. I’m going to pass out. You need to take me to Verdant. To the back door. It leads to the basement.” 

Blood was pooling on the seat underneath Oliver’s shoulder as his eyes slipped closed and his face contracted in pain.

_Verdant. Right. She could do this._

_Oh, God. Please don’t die._

_Don’t die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you're really going to like the next chapter. Felicity prays, Oliver dreams. Diggle observes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely overwhelmed by the response to this story and cannot believe that it has more than 1000 kudos. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you love reading it as much as I love writing it.
> 
> I think this might be my very favorite chapter so far.
> 
> As always, I only own my own words. The CW, DC and WB own everything else.

Felicity tears out of the QC parking deck like a woman possessed. And when Oliver passes out 3 minutes into their journey, she pushes her Mini to go faster.

Even though he can’t hear her, Felicity talks to Oliver the whole way. 

“You’re going to be fine,” she says. “You have to be fine.”

And she prays. Prays in a way she’s never prayed before.

_Please, don’t let him die. Please._

The drive from Queen Consolidated to Verdant takes 20 minutes on a good day. Felicity makes it in 10.

Because it’s still early by nightclub standards, Verdant’s parking lot is blissfully empty as her car comes to a screeching halt in front of the back entrance. Throwing the car in park, Felicity scrambles out and throws open the back passenger-side door. Leaning over Oliver’s prone form she takes a shaky breath as she confirms he’s still breathing.

But she has a problem. How is she ever going to get him out of the car? And who’s going to help her save him when she does?

Grasping Oliver under his arms, Felicity pulls while trying to avoid the wound on his shoulder. He barely budges.

Desperate, she wrenches open the back door and sees a door to her right with an electronic lock. This has to be what he was talking about.

Should she knock? Even if someone were there, would they answer?

Taking her phone out of her pocket, Felicity taps the screen a few times, sending a set of signals at the lock. _Come on, don’t fail me now._

The door unlocks.

Felicity wrenches the door open and launches herself down the stairs, not stopping to consider what or whom she might find at the bottom.

Spotting a figure sitting in front of monitors at the other end of the dark basement, Felicity immediately recognizes Mr. Diggle. 

“Mr. Diggle?” she says, hearing the note of hysteria in her voice. While she isn’t surprised by Mr. Diggle turning around in shock, she is surprised to find a gun pointed at her.

“Help me, please,” she pleads, holding her hands out in front of her. That’s when she notices they’re covered in blood. His blood. “Please,” she says, her voice cracking. “He’s really heavy, and he’s bleeding. Badly.” 

Mr. Diggle has already lowered the gun and is sprinting past her and up the stairs.

“Stay here!” He calls, almost as an afterthought.

Before Felicity can will her legs to move, Mr. Diggle is bounding back down the stairs as gracefully as he can, Oliver slung over one shoulder. 

“Felicity – the cart - ” he says, pointing to a metal cabinet on wheels in the corner as he deposits Oliver face up on a metal table at one end of the room. She wheels it over to where Mr. Diggle stands and takes a step back as he begins pulling drawers open. Oliver is still unconscious and blood is oozing out of the hole in his green leather jacket. 

As Felicity watches Oliver lie on the metal table, her mind and stomach churn. She knew, deep down, that there was much more to Oliver Queen than met the eye. And she knew that he was keeping big secrets, bigger than what he’d told her. But never in a million years had she imagined he was the Starling City vigilante running around putting arrows in people. 

_Murdering people._  

“He’s not a murderer, Felicity.” Mr. Diggle says quietly, breaking her out of her thoughts. _Oh. How much of that did I say out loud?_

“I thought he was too – when I first found out what he was doing.” He pauses, grabbing another piece of gauze from the cabinet and pressing down on Oliver’s wound. “But he’s not. He’s not killing innocent people, and lately – since he met you – he hasn’t been killed at all.” 

Felicity files that piece of information away for later.

“Damn it.”

“What?” Felicity asks, coming to stand on next to Oliver’s head.

“The bleeding isn’t stopping. This is a Zone 2 wound, it just missed the carotid. Here,” he says taking her hands and placing them down on top of the gauze. “Press down, hard.”

“I imagine calling 911 is not an option, right?” Felicity asks, a feeling of panic creeping up her spine, as Mr. Diggle moves back to the cabinet and starts grabbing supplies out of every drawer.

“No, because the police are going to want to know how and why he got this wound,” he replies.

“And we both know how and why are two of Oliver’s least favorite questions…” she trails off noticing what Mr. Diggle is holding in his hands.

“Is that blood?” She asks. 

“Yeah, he’s been saving it for a rainy day on the chance we’d need to bring the hospital to him,” he responds. “And right now it’s pouring.”

“Here, put those on,” he says putting the blood down and handing her a pair of latex gloves.

“Do you – do you know what you’re doing?” She asks, watching as he begins probing Oliver’s wound with a small pair of forceps in an attempt to remove the bullet.

“I had some medical training in the army. Let’s hope it’s enough.” He replies.

The feeling of panic and sickness Felicity’s been fighting since she realized Oliver was shot and bleeding in her backseat reappears with a vengeance. 

“Oh god,” she says backing up and taking a shuddering breath.

“Felicity, it’s going to okay. He’s going to be okay.” Mr. Diggle says, reaching to touch her arm with his free hand. “He’s been through a lot worse.” 

Moving back towards the table, Felicity takes several more deep breaths. “I know,” she replies. “He’s told me.”

A ghost of a smile appears on his face and with one eyebrow quirked, her returns to working on Oliver’s wound.

“Got it!” Mr. Diggle exclaims a few minutes later, showing Felicity the bullet held by the forceps. 

Felicity’s panic ebbs slightly as Diggle motions for her to again apply pressure to the wound while he prepares to suture it closed. 

_He will get through this._

_He has to._

****

Oliver isn’t sure whether he’s in the middle of a dream or a nightmare. Actually, he’s pretty sure it’s both. 

Maybe he’s dead. _He’s probably dead._ And this is his punishment. A perfect mixture of heaven and hell.

He’s woken up in this bed before. The last time it was the morning before his five-year odyssey began. The day the Queen’s Gambit sunk, the day Ollie Queen died.

And somehow, he’s back to that day. Turning his head on the pillow he is confronted by blonde hair streaming across the pillow, illuminated by the sunlight coming in through the cabin’s window.

Sara.

He thinks about her every day. A daily penance for her death. For the suffering their actions caused.

Suddenly the sunlight disappears, replaced by darkness.

The yacht begins rocking and Oliver sits up in bed as he hears the wind pick up, waves crashing against the hull.

_This isn’t right. It didn’t happen this way._

The movement causes his bedmate to turn over, and when he sees her face his heart sinks.

It’s not Sara in the bed. It’s Felicity. And he knows what happens next.

_Not her. Please not her._

The lights flicker, the rocking intensifies and then…

Crash. Darkness. 

They’re both out of the bed and on the floor as the yacht pitches forward. Water is rushing in.

“Felicity! Hold on!” He’s screaming as he scrambles towards her, reaching towards where she lies.

“Oliver!” She screams as the water rushes in faster, pulling the yacht down.

Then the wall is gone and she is gone too. 

And all Oliver knows is darkness.

****

“You’ve changed him for the better. I hope you know that.” Mr. Diggle says quietly, breaking Felicity out of her thoughts as she watches Oliver’s chest rise and fall.

He’s still unconscious and his heart rate is elevated, but since they finished stitching him up 30 minutes earlier the Foundry has been calm.

“Mr. Diggle – I – I haven’t done anything. I’m just trying to help…”

“First, enough with this Mr. Diggle business. I think after everything, tonight especially, you can call me Dig. And second, don’t even try to kid me or yourself.” He says, leveling a look at her. “He’ll kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but ever since that night he met you at that basketball game he’s been transformed. And I know, without being told a single detail, that he’s told you more about his time away, about his life than he’s ever told me.”

Felicity ducks her head, glancing away from Dig, her cheeks burning. 

“He let you in, Felicity. Don’t doubt the significance of that.”

Felicity looks up and gives Dig a watery smile, trying to think of how she can possibly respond when all hell breaks loose. 

The monitor Oliver is hooked up to begins beeping wildly and suddenly he’s thrashing on the table, his torso and limbs spasming.

Felicity and Dig are up out of their chairs and next to him in seconds.

“He’s seizing,” Dig says, turning to the medical cabinet. “I know there’s Ativan in here somewhere…”

Felicity reaches out for Oliver while Dig looks for the vial of Ativan, laying one hand on his arm and another on his forehead, stroking his temple.

“Come on Oliver,” she repeats over and over as she continues shaking. Then he’s still but the silence is filled with a sound that pierces her very soul.

“Dig!” She shouts, as the flat line on the monitor announces that Oliver’s heart has stopped.

“No, no, no, no.” He says, eyes wide.

“We have to call 911.”

“You can’t –”, he says, grabbing the defibrillator off the top of the cart.

“Do you know how to use one of those?” Felicity asks, knowing that if this doesn’t work Oliver will certainly die.

“We’re about to find out,” Dig replies setting the charge and waiting for the beep telling him to shock Oliver.

Felicity wraps her arms around herself. _Please, please work._

The beep sounds and…nothing.

“Wait – I heard the charge.” Felicity says as Dig looks on with panic on his face. Racing to the defibrillator, she wrenches open the side door and immediately sees the problem. Connecting the loose wire she looks at Dig and says, “Now. Try again.”

Dig shocks Oliver again. Once, twice, a third time. And finally he’s back, the monitor beeping out a steady heartbeat. 

If it weren’t for the adrenaline racing through Felicity’s veins, she’s certain she’d be a puddle on the floor from the stress.

“Felicity – what did you do? You almost certainly just saved his life.” Dig asks, eyes wide in disbelief. 

Grasping Oliver’s hand, Felicity shrugs. “I’ve been building computers since I was seven. Wires are wires.” 

Dig lets out a small huff of laughter, resting his hands on the table next to Oliver’s leg. “He tells me every chance he gets that you’re remarkable. And you’ve certainly lived up to that description tonight.”

“So, what do we do now?” Felicity asks, retaking the seat next to Oliver that she had vacated when his seizure began.

“We wait. And pray we don’t have heart attacks ourselves,” Dig replies.

****

Oliver knows he’s dreaming this time. Or he’s definitely dead, because he can’t have this life. Can’t be this happy.

They’re laying in the back yard at the mansion, holding hands and staring up at the blue sky. Their picnic lunch is scattered around them as the birds chirp and the breeze blows the fluffy white clouds above their heads.

Leaning over, Oliver kisses her lazily, threading his free hand through her blonde tresses. After several minutes, he pauses resting his forehead against hers.

Opening his eyes, he finds her looking back at him. No words are spoken. None are needed.

Everything else falls away and there’s just her hand in his. The pressure of her fingers, her touch branding him.

If this is a dream, he hopes he never wakes up.

****

“You will wake up, Oliver,” Felicity whispers, her head bent over his. “We have some unfinished business. Plus, you’re buying me a new car. Those blood stains are going to be a bitch to clean.”

Dig chuckles from across the room where he’s scanning news reports online. _I guess my whispering isn’t so quiet._

“It’s hit the news,” he says, turning the monitor towards where Felicity sits.

‘Vigilante Attacks Moira Queen at Queen Consolidated’ is emblazoned across the screen.

“Moira shot him?” Felicity gasps. “How, how did this happen? Why did he confront her as the vigilante?”

In the shock of finding Oliver shot in her backseat and the chaos that followed, Felicity hadn’t given much thought to _how_ Oliver ended up shot in her car. But now it made complete sense.

“He confronted her,” Dig says, turning around in his seat to face away from the computer. “About the Queen’s Gambit…and about Walter.”

“Walter?” Felicity asks, confused. _What happened to Walter?_

“You saw Oliver yesterday morning, right?” Dig asks.

“Yes – in his office. It was early,” she responds, unable to keep the blush from her cheeks as she remembers exactly how much of Oliver she saw yesterday morning. Not that that was a big deal anymore since Oliver lay shirtless next to her in leather pants that were so tight they should come with a warning label.

“He had gone home the night before for the first time in weeks and after dinner asked his mother about Walter. About how he hadn’t had much contact with him since he left for Australia. Her answer was…concerning. Almost as if she didn’t want Oliver trying to contact Walter.”

The wheels started spinning in Felicity’s head. Walter was nothing if not responsible and for him to be continuously out of touch, even while out of town, was odd.

“Oliver thinks something happened to him…” She says trailing off 

“That’s his fear,” Dig confirms. “That’s why he went to QC to see his mother as the vigilante. To try to see if she’d tell him anything. But it wasn’t just about Walter. That image you showed him, the one that’s in the book. It’s just one more item pointing to his mother’s guilt. And you know Oliver, he doesn’t like not having the answers." 

“No…he doesn’t,” Felicity murmurs, squeezing Oliver’s hand a little tighter. “But lucky for him neither do I.”

Grabbing her tablet, Felicity pulls up databases and hacks into Walter’s email. Hopefully her searches will yield _something_. Hopefully Walter was just fine.

“What do you think Dig? About all this I mean…do you think Oliver’s right? That Moira guilty, that something happened to Walter?" 

Sighing, Dig looks towards the ceiling for a moment where the first sounds of the nightclub’s booming music are streaming through. “Moira’s involved somehow. How and why though, those are the questions.”

“Right, Oliver’s least two favorite words…” she murmurs trailing off.

“We’re beyond the threshold of saying that there isn’t something huge going on here. Oliver thought so from the very beginning. I don’t think he ever had a clue this is what it’d end up being. But, we can’t deny it now. It’s all connected. The Queen’s Gambit, his parents, the book, Walter…” 

“Now we just have to figure out who else is involved,” Felicity says, a steely determination entering her voice. “Moira’s smart. But she’s not perfect. If she is involved, she’ll have made mistakes. Had meetings…”

Felicity looks up, the memory of her strange encounter with Malcolm Merlyn rushing back to her. On the surface it wasn’t alarming, but now with everything that had happened…what exactly _was_ Malcolm Merlyn doing at QC that late when neither Walter nor Oliver were there?

“What?” Dig asks, taking in her expression.

“Malcolm Merlyn. He was getting on the elevator at QC last night when I was leaving. I didn’t think too much of it, filed it away for later. But, I did think it was kind of odd. Neither Walter nor Oliver were there, it was after 8. Who would he have been there to see?” Felicity speculates.

“I’m not sure,” Dig replies. “But we can probably find out – security cameras?”

“Of course! That’s simple – oh. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” She says a little sheepishly. “I re-encrypted the camera security for Oliver and I can only access it from inside the QC mainframe.”

“Oh, well. It’s not like we’re going anywhere right now,” Dig responds gesturing to Oliver’s unconscious form. “Might as well get some rest.”

“Yeah,” Felicity says, leaning over slightly to rest her chin on her hand.

Just as she closes her eyes she remembers the other reason her encounter with Malcolm was weird. “He knew my name Dig.”

“Who?” He asks 

“Malcolm Merlyn. Isn’t that odd? I’ve never even met him…”

“But he knows who you are…the question is why.”

****

The first thing Oliver’s aware of is the hand grasping his. The second is the bright overhead light. The third is the burning pain.

But the feeling of that hand, her hand, dulls the discomfort of the other two.

His waking must have woken her because when he opens his eyes she’s staring back at him, her head resting on top of her arm that lays on the side of the table.

“Hi,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. 

“Hi,” she whispers back, raising her head from her arm and squeezing his hand a little tighter.

She looks exhausted, but she’s beautiful. And all he really wants to do right at that moment is pull her to him and kiss her until the rest of the world falls away. 

But then he looks more closely at her, sees the worry behind her eyes and the blood staining her sweater. His blood. And reality comes back into focus.

“How long have I been out?” He asks.

“Nearly 8 hours. It’s a little after 3 in the morning.” She replies as Dig approaches behind her.

“I take it your chat with your mom didn’t go well,” Dig says, giving Oliver a significant look.

“No. It didn’t,” Oliver says, moving to sit up. It hurts, but he can’t lie there any longer.

“Should you really be sitting up?” Felicity asks, her eyes wide at his sudden movement. 

“Probably not, but that hasn’t stopped him before,” Dig says with a smirk, handing Oliver a grey hoodie.

Easing the hoodie on, Oliver gestures to his wound. “How am I going to explain this one?” 

“Hickey gone wrong?” Dig quips, arching his eyebrow. “Besides, what does it really matter – not like anyone else besides us are going to see you naked.”

Oliver watches as Felicity turns bright red and ducks her head. If only it was a hickey...

“Well, since you’ve returned to the land of the living…I think it’s time for all of us to get some sleep.” Dig says.

“I’ve been unconscious for 8 hours…” Oliver begins to protest.

“Which is not the same thing as sleep.” Felicity responds, crossing her arms. “And if you think you’re going to go gallivanting off into the night after getting shot…”

Oliver tries to think of a response, but one look at Felicity’s face is enough to shut him up.

He catches Dig’s glance from behind Felicity. _You’re not going to win this one buddy. And she’s right. You know she is._

“And no sleeping on the floor either,” Dig says as he moves to gather his jacket.

“And where am I supposed to sleep then?” Oliver asks. Verdant was full of club-goers, there was no couch in the foundry and he couldn’t very well go home. 

“You could stay with me,” Felicity says, almost shyly. “I have an extra room.”

“There, perfect solution.” Dig says, shrugging his jacket on and heading for the stairs. “Well, I’m out. Goodnight.”

Oliver doesn’t miss Dig’s wink as he turns to climb the stairs. 

****

“Bye, Dig. See you soon,” Felicity calls at Diggle’s retreating form.

“So it’s Dig now, huh?” Oliver asks from his perch on the med table.

“Well, we decided somewhere amidst your getting shot, your having a seizure, and needing to restart your heart that formal names were no longer necessary.” 

“I’m sorry.” Oliver says quietly. 

“You should be.” She says with a smile that betrays her.

“Just try not to do it again.”

Wrapping her arms around Oliver’s chest, Felicity buries her face in his neck, her body sagging against his as the emotional and physical toll of the evening finally catches up. 

Oliver sighs deeply against her, bringing his uninjured arm around to rest on her back.

“We need to talk,” she mumbles against his neck.

“I know,” he replies, drawing back slightly. “I’m sure you have questions and God knows I certainly owe you a few answers.” 

“Yep, you do,” she says looking up, a smile crossing her face. “Not the least of which is how you and Dig have survived down here in this dark dingy lair for so long. Really Oliver, what on earth did you do to those poor computers over there? If I wasn’t so happy you didn’t die tonight I might kill you. That,” she said pointing to the table with two computer monitors, “is a capital crime against technology.”

Turning her head back towards Oliver, she is struck by the wide smile across his face. Suddenly Oliver’s chuckling and then wincing as the movement pulls on the stitches.

“A capital crime, huh?” He asks. “I didn’t think I did such a bad job, especially for someone who spent five years stranded on island without internet.”

Grabbing his hand, Felicity threads her fingers through his. “You know I’m not buying that bullshit, right?” She asks, a smirk on her face.

Oliver chuckles again. “Okay, so I owe you more than a few answers. I really don’t fool you at all, did I?”

“Nope. Genius MIT graduate, remember? Plus, I kind of make it my personal mission to solve mysteries. And you, Mr. Queen, are a mystery.”

Sighing, Oliver squeezes their entwined hands. “Well, Sherlock, are you willing to offer a full pardon if I admit that I was a bad liar and that I’ve done unspeakable wrongs to my computer set-up?” 

“Poss-i-bly,” Felicity answers, a teasing grin spreading across her face. “If you hand over that credit card of yours and let me work my technological magic on this disaster of a lair.”

“Hmm,” Oliver says, pausing. “On one condition.”

Felicity looks up at him, waiting for him to continue.

No words come. Instead, Oliver’s mouth is suddenly on hers and she could feel his smile against her lips. He opens his mouth, deepening the kiss and she responds in kind, pouring every fear and hope that has crossed her worried mind in the last 8 hours into the kiss.

Oliver releases one of her hands to thread it through her hair and she takes the opportunity to cup his cheek, careful not to bump his wound.

The kiss goes on and on, his tongue probing her mouth and sending sparks down her body. Desire floods through her as she slants her lips over his again and again.

Finally, out of breath, they break apart, their foreheads resting together, breath mingling. 

“Thank you.” Oliver whispers, sending a warm feeling through Felicity’s heart, the sincerity of his words causing tears to prick at the back of her eyes.

Moving her hand away from his face she grasps his free one in hers once again.

“Come on, let’s go home.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver goes home with Felicity and they...talk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I continue to be in awe of your response to this story and am so unbelievably happy that you are enjoying it. I love reading your comments and want to thank you so much for leaving them.
> 
> As always, DC, The CW and WB own Arrow. I own my words.

Standing in front of the sink, Oliver wipes the steam from the mirror and stares at his reflection, getting his first good look at the gunshot wound on his shoulder, red and crisscrossed with black thread. 

Another new scar to add to his collection. 

Sometimes looking in the mirror is like looking at a stranger. He can’t even remember what he used to look like, when his skin and soul were unmarked by trauma and tragedy. 

Shutting off the bathroom light, he moves into the bedroom and throws on the spare sweatpants he remembered to grab from the Foundry before Felicity drove them to her townhouse.

It’s after 5am and he knows he should lie down, try to get some real sleep in a real bed for the first time in weeks. 

 _“You need to sleep Oliver,” Felicity had said an hour earlier, pushing him into the guest room. “Eight hours laying unconscious on a metal table is not sleep.”_  

He smiles thinking about her, asleep in the room across the hall, as he shuts off the bedside lamp and sinks on to the double bed in her guest room.

She saved him tonight – well last night. Of that he has no doubt. And she saved him in more ways than one. She got him to the Foundry in time and beyond that, she hacked into the SCPD crime lab and had the blood sample he left on the floor of his mother’s office destroyed. 

Lying in the dark, eyes, closed, Oliver suddenly realizes that despite his best efforts he has let Felicity in. Completely. Irrevocably. 

He should feel fear, anxiety, anger even that his plan to keep this life separate and hidden has failed.

But he doesn’t feel any of those things. 

Instead, it’s relief.

****

When Oliver startles awake, he’s surprised to find that he actually fell asleep. But, judging by the still dark room he knows he hasn’t been asleep for long.

And that’s when he hears it.

Whimpering.

Vaulting out of bed, Oliver ignores the burning in his shoulder and throws open the door to the guest room. The whimpering is louder now, accompanied by a pleading voice. Felicity’s pleading voice. 

Without a moment of hesitation, Oliver crosses the hall and enters Felicity’s room fearing the worst. But instead of an armed attacker, Felicity is thrashing in the bed in the middle of an apparent nightmare.

“No. Please,” Felicity whimpers, clawing at the sheets. “Please don’t die, please don’t die.”  

Coming to stand directly beside her, Oliver can make out tears streaming down her face in the moonlight.

“Felicity,” he whispers, trying not to startle her.

She quiets for a minute, but then she starts whimpering again, even louder this time. 

“Where is he? Why did you bring me here?” She cries. “How do you even know me? How do you know my name?!” 

Sitting on the side of the bed, Oliver touches Felicity’s shoulder, rubbing his calloused hand over her smooth skin.

“Felicity. Felicity, it’s okay. You’re just dreaming.”

Felicity stills under his hand, her whimpering quieting and then stopping all together. 

After sitting stroking her tank top clad shoulder for another few moments, Oliver stood to return to the room across the hall.

“Ol’ver?”

Felicity’s whisper breaks through the darkness, startling him. Turning around, he can see her looking at him, her hand still clenched in the sheets. Slowly, she uncurls her fingers from the fabric and reaches out her hand towards him.

“Stay?” 

Walking back to the edge of the bed, Oliver grasps Felicity’s outstretched hand and leans down to cup the side of her face.

“Of course,” he whispers as Felicity slides over, making room for him to lie down.

Sliding under the covers, Oliver lies on his back trying not to pull the stitches in his shoulder as Felicity curls up next to him, her breathing evening out.

“Thank you for not dying,” Felicity says after several moments of silence, a sleepy quality to her voice. 

“ _No. Please. Please don’t die, please don’t die.”_

That’s when he realizes what her nightmare was about.

At least part of it, he thinks, remembering her outburst about someone knowing her name. 

 _What was that about?_  

“Felicity,” he whispers, turning on his side to face her, sleepiness beginning to overtake him. “Who – who knew your name?” 

The only response Oliver receives is Felicity’s steady breathing.

With a final look at her form in the dark, Oliver closes his eyes, letting the soft sound of her breathing lull him into oblivion. 

****

Early afternoon sunlight is streaming through Felicity’s bedroom windows when she wakes, the brightness through her still-closed eyes making her want to burrow under the covers and stay there for the rest of the day. She’s never felt so comfortable in her life, her bed a cocoon of warmth fitted perfectly around her. 

Reaching her hand out behind her to pull the comforter even closer, Felicity is surprised when her fingers land on skin instead of fabric. Any remnants of sleep are instantly gone as she blinks her eyes open. That’s when she realizes her cocoon isn’t made of blankets at all.

There’s a sleeping person wrapped around her. Their chin tucked against her shoulder, arm across her waist, hand splayed against her stomach. 

Closing her eyes, Felicity takes a moment to enjoy his embrace while trying to remember how he ended up in her bed. 

She remembers driving them to her townhouse in the early morning hours and setting him up in the guest room across the hall before wearily throwing her pajamas on and crawling into bed. 

That’s when the nightmares began, she remembers. She must have called out in her sleep, loud enough for Oliver to hear. 

Oliver dying in the back seat of her car, unable to get to Verdant in time. Oliver dying on the med table in the Foundry, unable to re-start his heart. Moira, who she’d never officially met, confronting her in her office and asking why she’d destroyed her family. A dark room where Malcolm Meryln stood in front of her saying ‘I know all about you Ms. Smoak.’

She shudders at the memory, a chill running down her spine even as she’s enveloped in Oliver’s warmth. 

The movement wakes Oliver behind her, his arm tightening around her middle, his fingers spreading out against her stomach. 

“Good morning,” he whispers, almost shyly against her neck, his proximity sending a different kind of sensation through her body. 

“Good morning,” she whispers back, rolling over to face him, his arm still around her. 

“I feel like this should be awkward, me being here, but it’s not,” she says, a smile crossing her lips. And it’s not awkward. Even though they still have a lot to discuss, one thing Felicity knows for sure is that whatever is going on between them feels 100% right. 

Smiling back at her, Oliver leans forward and brushes his lips lightly against hers.

“You’re right. It’s not,” he says, resting his forehead against hers. “But I should probably clarify how I ended up in here…” 

“I had a nightmare. I’m sorry I woke you.” She says, embarrassment setting in at how loud she must have been for him to hear her from across the hall. 

Oliver nods. “You were crying. I – I thought something was wrong and when I came to check on you you were in the middle of a nightmare. You asked me to stay. I only planned on waiting for you to fall asleep, but I must have dozed off too.”

“Thank you.” Felicity says, kissing him softly. “I’m glad you stayed.” 

“I’m glad too,” he says. “I think it might be the best night – well morning – of sleep I’ve had in a long time.” 

“How’s your shoulder?” She asks, lightly touching the bandage.

“It’s alright,” he shrugs. “How are you? No more nightmares?” 

“I’m okay,” she smiles, “thankfully no more nightmares.”

“Felicity?” Oliver asks, causing her to pull back and look at him fully. “I know we have a lot we need to talk about but can I ask what you’re nightmares were about? You – you were pretty upset. Someone had taken you somewhere and you didn’t understand how they knew your name…”

 _Malcolm Merlyn._ _For some reason that many gave her the creeps. And it was coming out in her nightmares._  

“I think everything that happened last night just put my brain on overload,” she explains. “The scenes in my dream kept changing. You kept dying. First in my car and then in the Foundry.”

“ _Thank you for not dying,”_ Oliver murmurs, causing a blush to flood Felicity’s face. 

“I really said that, didn’t I?” She asks, the ghost of a sleep-drenched memory floating at the edge of mind. 

Not waiting for Oliver to respond, she continues. “The dream changed then. Instead of you dying, it was your mother, standing in my office asking why I’d helped destroy her family. But, what you’re asking, that was last and takes a little explanation.” 

“Two nights ago…the same day as our morning in your office…” Felicity smiles as Oliver grins at her, because neither of them was in any hurry to forget. “I was at QC that night until after 8. I’d spent all day running searches on the image in the book and thinking about how everything might be connected, so I probably had conspiracy on the brain. But as I got off the elevator in the lobby, Malcolm Merlyn was waiting to get on.”

“Tommy’s dad? Oliver asks, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I wonder what he was doing there so late, especially without Walter there…”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” Felicity replies. “But, Oliver, what was really odd was that he knew my name. As he passed me, he said ‘Ms. Smoak.’ I know it sounds silly and it was probably nothing, but I’ve never met him, never even been in the same room with him. He barely spared me a second glance, but in retrospect it just felt…weird. And that’s probably why I was dreaming about it. That’s what I must have been saying. Asking him why he knew my name. My brain must have twisted it all around.” 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Oliver responds, his hand moving to stroke her back. “But it won’t hurt to look into Malcolm’s dealings. At this point, I’m not sure anything will surprise me.”

Felicity hopes the surprises are over too, but deep down she dreads they’ve only uncovered the tip of the iceberg. 

**** 

Two hours later, Oliver sits next to Felicity on her sofa with their feet propped up on the coffee table and hands entwined, the late afternoon shadows already starting to darken the room. 

They’d spent the last hour and a half talking. About his decision to become the vigilante, about how he’d brought Dig in on his activities, about the book and what it really meant to him and what he was doing. 

Even though the thought had crossed his mind more than once, he was a little chagrined to realize Felicity had all but guessed how he spent his nights before he revealed himself to her. In fact, he’d had to fill in very few details for her to get the whole picture of his mission in the aftermath of the island. 

The island and the years he was away were a different story though. One day, he’d tell her more, but not today. Not unless she asked.

The only thing they hadn’t talked about yet was what _they_ were. Because even though Oliver might have once wanted to keep her at arms length they were certainly _something_. 

Clearing his throat, Oliver tugs on her hand, her eyes meeting his. “We probably should talk about what…what…”

“This is?” She asks, gesturing between them with her free hand. 

“Yeah,” he responds with a grin.

“Well…” Felicity says, smiling back. “We’ve made out on national TV in a crowded arena, in your office, in the Foundry, and in my bed. I found you bleeding in my car and I’ve seen your super secret lair. I think it sounds pretty serious, whatever _this_ is.” 

“So, I should ask you if you wanna go steady?” Oliver asks, unable to keep the laugh out of his voice. 

“Did Oliver Queen just make a joke? Do I get to wear your class ring?” Felicity asks, laughter filling her voice.

Instead of answering her with words, Oliver leans down and captures her lips in his. Slanting his mouth over hers, he can’t get enough of how her lips fit perfectly against his, how her tongue caresses his with a gentle force that sends sparks through his body.

Drawing back, he looks at her. “We’re us,” he says simply, seeing a flicker of something in her eyes at his words.

Nodding, Felicity responds, a glorious smile spreading across her face. “Us.” 

Resuming the kiss, Oliver grabs her waist with his uninjured arm and pulls her onto his lap, her hands coming to rest on his chest. Her messy ponytail is half undone and he threads one hand through her hair, loosening it completely. 

Still dressed in her sleep shorts and tank top, Oliver is only now realizing Felicity’s lack of a bra as her nipples pebble under the thin fabric in front of him. Kissing down her neck, he covers one breast with his hand, pausing to make sure she’s okay with the more intimate intrusion. 

When she takes his face in her hands and brings his mouth back to hers for a bruising kiss, he moves his hand, pinching the nipple between his fingers.

The moan his actions draw from her mouth goes straight to his groin, arousal flooding through him. Felicity’s position on his lap is blissfully tortuous, her movements grinding into him making him almost painfully hard. 

With one hand still on her breast, Oliver moves his other hand under her tank top, caressing her bare stomach and skirting against the underside of her bare breasts.

Felicity sighs against his mouth, arching into him as he starts to move his hand higher.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

At first Oliver doesn’t even register the noise, but when Felicity’s lips detach from his with a resigned sigh, the sound finally permeates his aroused brain. 

“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “It’s my searches. I set an alarm to alert me when they yielded results.” 

“Walter?” He asks.

“Maybe.” She says, righting her tank top and climbing reluctantly off his lap to fetch her tablet from the dining room table. 

Oliver can’t help the hiss that escapes his mouth as her movements brush against his erection. 

But all thoughts of that evaporate when he sees Felicity’s face standing in the doorway of the living room.

“Oliver….” Felicity says, her voice trailing off as she stares at the tablet in her hand. 

“What, Felicity?” He asks, dreading her answer. 

“My database search on Walter’s activity in Australia was delayed by the time difference, but the results have finally rendered. He’s not there. There’s no trace of him in Australia. He was there, but he’s not anymore. He checked out of the hotel in Sydney more than a week ago…and boarded a plane to return to Starling.” 

“What?” Oliver asks, knowing now that something was very wrong. 

“There’s surveillance footage of him boarding the plane in Sydney – it’s a direct flight to Starling,” she says, turning her tablet around for him to see. “But there’s no record of him landing in Starling. He didn’t get off the plane. It’s like he vanished in midair. That can’t happen right? People don’t just vanish off a flight.” 

Oliver wishes he could assure Felicity; tell her that there was a logical explanation. 

The problem is, Oliver is well versed in vanishing.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope everyone had wonderful holidays and are ready to embark on 2016! As always, I'm in awe of your wonderful kudos and comments and truly enjoy reading them. Please don't be shy! Thank you for reading!
> 
> All mistakes are mine. Arrow is owned by DC, WB and the CW. I own my words.

Felicity wakes up on Monday morning with a jolt, glasses askew on her face and hands limply grasping her tablet. Squinting at the alarm clock on the table next to her bed, she sits up abruptly, accidentally kicking Oliver’s arm and waking him in the process. 

“Wha –?” Oliver half-mumbles/half-snorts from where his head rests at the foot of the bed. “Wha’s the matter?” 

It’s 7:30. And as much as she’d like several more hours of sleep, she needs to take a shower _right now_ if he wants to get to work on time. 

“It’s morning – we must have fallen asleep talking last night,” Felicity says, swinging her jean-clad legs over the side of the bed. “I need to get ready for work.”

As she heads for the bathroom, Felicity takes a moment to survey her bedroom. Papers are scattered across the floor and dozens of post-it notes are stuck to the room’s only empty wall, forming a neon timeline of events. After nearly 36 hours of analyzing every detail, they’re still unsure of how everything fits together and how the situation deteriorated so quickly.

She has no doubt though that it’s all connected. All of it. The sinking of the Queen’s Gambit, the book, the yacht’s salvaged wreckage in the warehouse, the death of Josiah Hudson, Moira’s odd behavior and now Walter’s disappearance. 

And she knows that they’ll figure this out. They have to. But the scope of it all is what’s frightening, she thinks, remembering Oliver’s words from the night before. 

_“There isn’t much that scares me anymore Felicity…but the depth of this, the breadth of this is just…hard to fathom,” Oliver murmurs from where he sits next to her, back against the headboard of her bed._

_Felicity stares at the post-it covered wall across the room. In any other situation the collection of neon colors might be pretty, but tonight they’re not. Instead they’re a representation of a worrying reality._

_“Six years…” she says quietly, looking at the very first post-it in the timeline they’ve constructed. “I think that’s what scares me the most. Whatever this is, whoever’s behind it…they’ve been planning this for years. And they’ve woven quite a web of intrigue.”_  

Years, Felicity thinks, her thoughts returning to the present. Maybe that’s why they’ve hit a brick wall. They’ve been so focused on every new thread of information that they’ve overlooked how it all started. Instead of unraveling the knot, they’ve only tightened it. 

They need to start at the beginning – or as close to the beginning as they can.

Who would want Robert Queen dead? And why? Was Oliver just collateral damage? Or was he a target too? 

All questions Oliver was going to have to help her answer, which he’d have plenty of time to do since she was making him stay home from QC that day.

Not that he knew that. Yet. 

After showering and dressing for work, Felicity emerges from the bathroom expecting to do battle with Oliver since convincing him to stay home from QC might be more difficult than locating Walter. What she isn’t expecting is to find Oliver doing push-ups on her bedroom floor. 

“What are you doing?” she half gasps/half-screeches. 

“Push-ups?” he asks, pausing and giving her a funny look.

“Are you crazy?” she asks, looking to the bandage on his shoulder which, on cue, has a fresh stain of blood seeping through it. “You’re going to rip your stitches out!”

“I’m fine, Felicity. It’s not that big of a deal,” he says jumping up and kissing her on the cheek as if absolutely nothing was wrong. “I’m going to go take a shower. I need to stop by Verdant to grab a suit and my Ducati before going to QC.”

“You’re not stopping by anywhere. You’re not going to QC today,” she says as he walks towards the guest room across the hall.

“Felicity. I’m fine. Of course I’m going to QC. What else am I supposed to do?” he asks, stopping in the middle of the hall and turning around.

“Oliver, you were shot. You know, with a bullet? You need at least one more day to rest your shoulder. You can relax and think about everything we discussed yesterday,” she replies, hands on her hips.

“I don’t need to relax. I don’t have time to relax. I need to look into more things at QC and then I need to shoot some arrows, put the fear of god into people,” Oliver says as he continues into the guest room 

“And shooting arrows at your mother the other night worked real well for you…” Felicity mumbles under her breath, following him. 

“I heard that,” he says, grabbing a towel out of the closet.

“And you’re going to shoot those arrows how?” Felicity asks ignoring him as she leans in the guest room doorway.

“I’m perfectly capable of operating a bow,” he argues, making his way towards the adjoining bathroom. “I don’t have time to rest. I need to figure out what the hell is going on in my city.”

“Need I remind you that less than 48 hours ago you were flat lining on a metal table in the dark basement of your nightclub?” Felicity calls after him as he closes the bathroom door.

Oliver didn’t need to respond. She knew him well enough by now to know that he was mentally planning how he’d defy her wishes.

Fifteen minutes later Felicity sits at the kitchen table drinking a much-needed cup of coffee when Oliver appears, walking towards the counter to pour himself a cup. 

When he reaches into the cupboard to grab a mug, Felicity doesn’t miss the grimace that crosses his face. 

Standing from the table, Felicity grabs her coat off the bench in the corner. “So, I’ll meet you at Verdant at 5:30. Dig will pick you up.” 

“No, he won’t,” Oliver replies as he stands, arms crossed, by the coffee maker.

“Oliver – ” 

“Dig won’t be driving me because he’ll be protecting you,” he says, interrupting her.

_Oh._

“Oliver, I don’t need – ”

Oliver levels a look at her eerily like one of the many she’d given to him earlier.

“Fine,” Felicity says, unable to deny the warm feeling in her chest at his words.

“But don’t think you can show up to QC,” she says grabbing her keys and purse. “I hacked your email while you were in the shower and told your secretary that you’re ill…and highly contagious.”

“Felicity –” he groaned.

Coming to stand in front of Oliver, she leans up and presses a lingering kiss against his lips. 

“I know how you think Oliver. You were going to let me leave – let me think you were going to stay here – and then you’d just show up at QC. It’s just one more day. Give yourself a break. Walter’s out there and we’ll find him, but we can’t do that if you stubbornly keep trying to rip your stitches open.”

“I wasn’t trying to rip them open,” he replies, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Could have fooled me,” she says. “Not that I didn’t appreciate the show.”

A chuckle escapes his lips before his mouth descends on hers, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. They’ve done a lot of kissing since Friday and Felicity doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of it. Especially the way his tongue caresses hers, kindling a fire in her abdomen that is getting harder and harder to extinguish every time their lips meet.

After a few moments, Felicity reluctantly steps back after pressing a last, lingering kiss to Oliver’s lips. “I left all the research files we compiled yesterday open on my laptop. I also jotted down some thoughts I had this morning. I know we’re worried about Walter and that we want to find him, but I think we need to focus how this all started. Maybe we’ll find some clues that way too.”

“I’ll see you later,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his cheek, his stubble grazing her sensitive lips.

She’s half way out the door when she stops and turns around.

“And don’t even think about going out with your bow and arrow because I’ll just have to send a copy of that email about your contagious and embarrassing illness to Channel 52.”

****

“Resting your arm, I see.” 

Felicity’s voice startles Oliver momentarily, causing him to look up and miss the tennis ball he’s aiming for.

Not that he’d have hit it anyway. But he’s not going to tell Felicity that…

“Hey,” he says with a smile, setting his bow down on the table. After more than 48 hours together, he’s missed her today – a realization he finds comforting rather than alarming. “Where’s Dig?” 

“Don’t worry – I didn’t ditch my ‘bodyguard’ on the way over from QC,” Felicity jokes as she sets several large bags down on the Foundry’s floor. “Dig followed me here and then ran over to get us all some Big Belly Burger. He’ll be back in a few minutes. How long have you been here?” 

“Only about an hour,” Oliver answers truthfully, gesturing to the board he’s set up on the far side of the foundry. “I re-created our post-it timeline. Figured we needed a copy of our notes here too – otherwise we’re going to spend the whole night trying to remember what we already accomplished.”

He’d never admit it out loud, but Oliver knew Felicity had been right that morning – ‘forcing’ him to stay away from QC. He had needed today to just…think. It wasn’t even so much about his shoulder as it was about everything else…even if he _had_ maybe, possibly ripped some of his stitches out that morning.

Surprisingly, he hadn’t been bored out of his mind at Felicity’s townhouse all day. And he hadn’t tried to escape to the Foundry the moment Felicity left. Reading the new set of notes she’d left and going back over the timeline had allowed him to think from a new perspective. They’d spent so much time Saturday night and Sunday worrying about Walter and the when and the where that they’d overlooked the bigger picture. It wasn’t just about his mother or about Walter or what had happened since his return to Starling. It was about everything that came before – about what caused his departure in the first place. 

Why had his father really needed to go to China? Was it really QC business? And how had the bomb come to be onboard the Queen’s Gambit?

And, why had his father started the list? Oliver had been so consumed with keeping his promise to his father, with saving his city, that he’d made a serious mistake. He’d never asked why the book truly existed in the first place, no matter how corrupt the people in its pages were. 

Felicity rustling through the bags at her feet jarred him out of his thoughts. “What’s all this?” Oliver asks. 

“This,” Felicity says with a grin, “is your new, state of the art computer system! Okay…it’s my new state of the art computer system…”

Oliver just chuckles. He did promise she could work her technological magic on the Foundry.

“Your email wasn’t the only thing I hacked this morning,” Felicity continues, a little sheepishly. “I may have _borrowed_ your bank account too. So don’t be alarmed when you see a bunch of charges for expensive spa treatments.”

“Spa treatments?” he asks.

“Well, uh, when I say state of the art I mean _really_ state of the art. The kind of state of the art that an underpaid IT girl from Queen Consolidated and a billionaire playboy club owner shouldn't be buying. So, I kind of had to disguise the charges as something else.”

“Is that even legal?” Oliver asks.

“Now you’re worried about what is and isn’t legal, ‘Mr. I Run Around Shooting People With Arrows’?”

“Point taken,” Oliver replies. “So I love the spa now?” 

“Yep,” Felicity responds with a grin. “You can tell people you’ve turned over a new leaf. You like massages at the spa, maybe you even took your girlfriend with you.” 

“My girlfriend, huh?” Oliver asks teasingly, a feeling bubbling up inside him at her words. 

“You know, blonde IT genius, about this tall, drives a Mini Cooper, really good kisser…” 

“Hm. Sounds kind of familiar…” Oliver murmurs quietly, stepping closer to Felicity. “But I think I might need a reminder, you know…verify the good kisser part.”

Oliver doesn’t give Felicity a chance to respond before he’s captured her lips in his, a little sigh leaving her mouth as he runs his tongue against the seam of her lips. When Felicity’s mouth opens, Oliver deepens the kiss, caressing her tongue with his. He could kiss her forever, he thinks, as he cups her face with both hands, backing her up so she leans against the desk behind her. He loves the quiet sounds she makes as they kiss, sounds that he’s become increasingly familiar with over the last several days. Sounds he’s looking forward to exploring further. 

“Oliver? Felicity?” 

The exploration will have to wait when Dig’s voice rings out across the Foundry, putting an end to their interlude. Pulling away from Felicity, his arm still around her waist, Oliver doesn’t have time to worry about Dig finding them making out before he sees the look on the other man’s face. 

“As much as I’d like to go through the ‘well it’s about damn time’ speech, I can’t right now,” Dig says as he crosses the Foundry and turns on the television in the corner, Big Belly bag still clutched tightly in one hand. “We have a problem. A major problem.”

As the picture appears on the screen, Oliver immediately sees what Dig is talking about, the words _“Starling City Vigilante Embarks on Killing Spree in Aftermath of Queen Consolidated Attack”_ emblazoned across the bottom of the newscast.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a very, very bad author. I'm so very sorry for the delay. Real life has been extremely busy and this chapter gave me more trouble than I thought it would. This is definitely a transitionary chapter as things start to come together. 
> 
> I have a clear vision of where this story is going, so stick with me. I'm hoping to post again within the week.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for your kind comments and kudos. I'm still in awe of the response to this story and am so grateful to all my readers.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow or any of its characters, etc.

“At least they know it’s not you?” Felicity asks with a tight smile, her voice breaking the tense silence filling the Foundry.

Oliver doesn’t respond, just glances up at her briefly before continuing his silent gaze at the book of names in his hands, as if the object is suddenly going to whisper answers to all their questions.

Oh, how she wishes it would. Because right now, answers are what they desperately need.

Felicity isn’t surprised at Oliver’s silence. Or Dig’s. Because she doesn’t know what to say either. Doesn’t know how to account for this latest twist in what seems to be a never-ending succession of mysterious events. Can’t explain how every time they turn around some new development has thrown them for a loop. 

 _My kingdom for a pause button,_ she thinks. 

Thirty minutes ago, she was kissing Oliver and ready to set up Oliver’s new state of the art computer system. But the bags of computer components still lay untouched next to her seat and the pleasure of Oliver’s lips had turned to panic when Dig flew into the Foundry and turned on the news. 

They knew that the Vigilante hadn’t gone on a killing spree in the last 24 hours, but no one else did. 

Well, at least until 10 minutes ago.

When the Starling City Chief of Police appeared on the screen, Felicity was fully prepared for him to deliver the same accusations and promises he usually did, swearing that the Starling City Vigilante would be captured and brought to justice.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, he chastised Channel 52 for jumping to conclusions and jeopardizing their investigation, held up a handful of black arrows, and admitted that the Vigilante was not responsible for the killings.

There was another archer on the loose in Starling City. And no one knew who it was. 

“He’s killing people on the list,” Oliver says suddenly, jolting Felicity out of her thoughts.

“What?” she asks, confusion momentarily flooding through her.

“The list,” Oliver says standing from his chair as he holds the book out towards her. “All the names the news anchor listed. I’ve threatened each and every one of them since returning to Starling. They’re all on my father’s list. And now they’re dead.”

Felicity grasps the book, opening it to the first page where the strange symbol is imprinted. The same symbol prominently displayed on the post-it covered board across the room. There’s something about it. It’s so familiar. But no matter how many times she looks at it she can’t place it. 

If only she knew what it really meant. 

“You may not believe this Oliver,” Dig says from where he’s studying their notes across the room, “but this might actually help us.”

“How Dig?” Oliver bites out, frustration coloring his voice. “I know I’m not exactly the model of non-violence, but this…person…is threatening my city and causing more chaos and…” 

“And they’ve finally given us a lead to follow,” Dig says, interrupting Oliver.

Felicity watches as Oliver picks up his bow, tension rolling off him in waves. She knows he’s in turmoil and wants nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and say that everything will be okay. But she knows that in this moment no words will help. Only action, only fixing this or at least getting one step closer to resolution will make any difference.

“Listen, man,” Dig says, continuing, “we’ve been stumbling around in the dark for weeks. We know this is all connected, but so far we’ve only had speculation and all of our evidence has either disappeared or led us to dead ends. But this…development…someone is calling you out,” Dig says. “They know about the list. That’s why they’re killing the people you’ve targeted.” 

While Dig talks Felicity’s mind is stuck on his first words, thoughts swirling through her head.

_“…given us a lead to follow.”_

That’s it, she thinks, mentally pumping her fist in the air.

“Um, Felicity?” Dig asks, looking at her with a confused look.

“I, uh, said that out loud didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “you also did this weird thing with your arm…”

“Huh, so I really do that,” Felicity says, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Yeah, you do,” Oliver’s suddenly voice filters across the room. He’s looking at her with a soft grin, the tension in his shoulders slightly less. “So, what’s this ‘it’ you’re so excited about?”

“Dig’s right,” she says glancing over to Dig before settling her gaze on Oliver. “This Dark Archer – that’s what I’m calling him in my head – and his antics…or her antics, but it’s probably his because…” 

“Felicity…” Oliver says, interrupting her babble. 

_Oops._

“Right, sorry. Anyway, the police have the arrows this person used and if we can trace where they came from we stand a good chance of being able to find this new archer.” 

“And if we can find them, they’re almost certainly a missing piece in our larger puzzle,” Oliver murmurs. 

“Exactly,” Felicity says. “You haven’t only encountered people in the book as the vigilante – there have been others. And this archer knows that, it’s been all over the news and in police reports. But they specifically went after the people on the list you’ve dealt with. They’re not just a copycat – they have to have a copy of the list or a deep knowledge of it.”

“It all comes back to the book…” Oliver murmurs.

“Yeah,” Felicity says with a sigh. “The Gambit sinking, the strange QC transactions, Walter’s disappearance, Moira’s odd behavior, this new archer. They all have something in common – a mutual link…” 

“The book,” Dig confirms. 

“It’s ironic in a way – this new development, how it’s one more link to the book,” Oliver says, walking towards the note-covered board. “It’s all I thought about today – and it’s what I wanted to talk about tonight. The why of it all,” Oliver admits as he studies the post-its he placed there earlier. 

“I got so caught up in survival, in justice, in my promise that I never really thought about why. Why did my father have the book to begin with? Why was it written in secret ink? Why was he really going to China?” Oliver pauses, turning back towards where she and Dig stand. “And why would he let me go, let Sara go if he thought something might happen? Why would my mother let me go if she had planned something?” 

“Oliver…” Felicity says quietly, walking to stand close to him. “You can’t blame yourself for not having all the answers.”

Oliver doesn’t respond and instead redirects the conversation.

“We need to get ahold of one of those arrows,” he says heading towards the table where his bow sits.

“I’ll handle that,” Dig says, interrupting Oliver’s progress.

“Dig –“

“You really think it’s a smart idea for the vigilante to drop into the SCPD crime lab tonight?” Dig asks. “Plus, you stayed home from work today and you know what the rule is…so no going out tonight.” 

“Haha, very funny,” Oliver replies with a scowl. 

“He is right…” Felicity adds.

“Fine,” Oliver sighs. “But how are you going to get the arrow?”

“I have a…friend,” Dig responds, a strange look on his face. “She owes me a favor.”

Felicity swears she hears Dig mumble “ _if she doesn’t punch me in the face first_ ,” but at this moment she can’t handle one more mystery.

“Great! That settles it,” Felicity says with a grin. 

“And what am I supposed to do?” Oliver asks. 

“You can be my assistant!” Felicity says. “We need to get this computer system set up in order to analyze the arrow.”

“Your assistant?” Oliver says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, it’s one of your boyfriend duties,” Felicity responds.

“Oh, really?” Oliver asks.

“Yep,” Felicity says, popping the p. “Didn’t you read the official boyfriend’s guide? It’s right between buying me ridiculously good red wine and letting me buy all the high power tech I want.”

“I must have missed that section…”

Dig clearing his throat causes Felicity to tear her eyes away from Oliver.

“I’m going to go fetch our arrow,” Dig says, giving them a look. “You two just...yeah. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Be careful, Dig,” Felicity calls as he heads towards the stairs before turning back to Oliver. 

“So where do you want me?” Oliver asks, his eyebrow raised and a smirk plastered across his face. 

_Oh where indeed._


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for continuing to follow this story. I'm so sorry for the long delay in updating. My job has been absolutely crazy and I had trouble getting this chapter started. But here it is. And it's long – more than 5,000 words.
> 
> Some dialogue in this chapter is taken from Arrow 1x09.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow or any of its characters.

“You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?” Felicity’s muffled voice comes from beneath the computer desk where she’s connecting wires for the new system.

Oliver chokes on the coffee he’s just sipped, tearing his eyes away from Felicity’s shapely backside. The backside he was just ogling instead of helping her. 

“Um…no?” He says/asks sheepishly.

“It’s okay – I don’t mind,” Felicity says, briefly turning and poking her head out from under the desk, a grin on her face. “It’s just that I can’t concentrate with you doing that. It makes me want to crawl out from under here and kiss you –amongst other things – and as appealing as that is we have to finish setting up this system before Dig gets back. And the last thing any of us need right now is Dig walking in on another make-out session. And I just said _all_ of that out loud, didn’t I?”

Oliver can’t prevent the laugh that escapes him or the intense feeling of want that settles in his gut.

“Of course I did. What is _wrong_ with me? _Amongst other things_. For the love of God Felicity, the man is recovering from a gunshot wound, all hell has broken loose, and that’s what you’re thinking about…” Oliver hears her mumble to herself as she resumes her task.

Crouching down, Oliver maneuvers himself under the desk to sit next to her.

“Hey – I like you just the way you are, babbling and all,” he murmurs, watching her work. “And I’m very much looking forward to those _other things_ too.” 

Her hands pause for a moment. Even in the dim light under the desk, Oliver can see the blush that suffuses her face and neck and he lets himself wonder for a second how far the rosy glow goes.

“I think that does it,” Felicity says, clearing her throat and breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“The system,” she clarifies, pointing to the equipment in front of her. “I’ve got the server all set up, so all I need to do is bring up my programs and wait for Dig to come back.”

“Good,” Oliver says. “Hopefully Dig’ll be back soon with one of these arrows and we’ll be one step closer to getting to the bottom of this.”

“Yeah,” Felicity says quietly, her eyes meeting his. “Do – do you think Walter is still alive?” 

Oliver wants to respond yes, to alleviate Felicity’s worry and bolster his own hopes that Walter is out there somewhere waiting to be rescued. But if his years away taught him anything it’s that people with bad intentions see their obstacles as disposable. The question is whether Walter was useful to who is responsible for his disappearance. And if that person was his mother…well, that kind of cruelty was almost unbearable.

“I – I hope so,” Oliver says, taking Felicity’s hand in his. “Someone went through a lot of trouble to make Walter disappear without a trace _and_ to cover it up. So, hopefully he’s useful to someone and they haven’t harmed him.” 

“I hope so too,” Felicity responds, tracing her thumb over where Oliver’s rests on her hand. 

“Felicity?” Oliver asks, suddenly needing to inject a little normalcy in their very abnormal situation. “Do you like Italian?” 

“Hm?”

“Food – do you like Italian?” he asks again.

“I do,” she responds, a soft smile on her face. “Maybe a little too much – I could eat pasta every day.” 

“Good,” Oliver says with a chuckle, “because when this is over I want to take you to dinner. All the pasta you want. I owe you a real date. One that doesn’t involve a clandestine breakfast meeting at the crack of dawn or me bleeding in the back seat of your car.” 

“Sounds great,” she says, leaning towards him so her lips brush against his ear, “but just for the record, I’m ok with breakfast meetings at dawn too. I really liked starting my day with you.” 

“I think that can be arranged,” Oliver whispers back, his mind flooded with images of all the different ways he’d like to start his day with Felicity.

He turns his head and closes the distance between them, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. The moan that escapes her as his tongue runs against the seam of her mouth makes him want to lay her down right there and explore some of those _other things_ they were alluding to. But he can’t. Not right now at least. So instead he cups the back of her head in one hand and traces the other down her side. He feels the shudder that runs through her as his fingers ghost from the underside of one breast to her waist. 

And in that moment, under the desk in the dark, everything else falls away and all he can focus on is how she feels in his arms and how she tastes. Like a combination of mint and chocolate and something else – something comfortable and familiar – that he can’t quite name. 

Her hands grip the front of his t-shirt, the warmth of her skin soaking through the fabric, pulling him impossibly closer to her. Eventually their feverish kisses slow and he traces his lips against the corners of her mouth and along her cheeks. 

Leaning back Oliver rests his forehead against hers and just breathes her in, his eyes still closed. 

“We should probably get off this cold, dirty floor,” he murmurs, realizing that he’s long since lost feeling in his folded legs and she can’t be in any better shape in her pencil skirt and bare legs and feet. 

“Yeah, my feet are freezing,” Felicity admits, letting her hands fall from where they are still grasping his shirt. 

Oliver crawls slowly out from under the desk and is startled, hitting his head against the underside of the desktop when he comes face to face with Dig, his gun in one hand and a long cardboard tube in the other.

“Ow!” Oliver exclaims roughly, his hand coming up to rub the top of his head. “Dig – what, what the hell are you doing?”

“Good. You’re not dead or kidnapped. Or naked, now that I think about it – which if this is going to become a thing might I suggest a note or a tie on the door or something?” Dig says roughly as he holsters his weapon and offers a hand to Oliver, pulling him to his feet.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Oliver asks, bending down to offer his hand to Felicity as she crawls out from under the desk, a confused look on her face. 

“I got back 10 minutes ago to find the door to the basement unlocked and half open and this…mess…,” Dig says, gesturing to the crumpled boxes strewn around them on the Foundry floor and the overturned bin of tennis balls in the corner. 

_Oh. Oops._

Looking around, Oliver realizes that the Foundry really does look like it’s been ransacked.

_Something that’s entirely Felicity’s skirt’s fault._

_Okay._

_His fault._  

“Oliver,” Felicity says, standing up and looking around for her high heels, “why are all these boxes like this? I thought you were going to throw them away outside. And why are there tennis balls all over the floor? Did you trip over something?”

_Why were there tennis balls all over the floor? Oh, right,_ he thinks as he remembers accidentally kicking the bin over. 

“I, uh, I took the first stack of boxes out and then I, um, got…distracted…” he admits as he scrapes his hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers graze the rapidly forming bump on the top of his head.

Oliver watches as realization floods Felicity’s face at his words.

“Oh,” she mumbles, her cheeks and chest rapidly turning red.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, unable to keep the soft grin off his face.

“Distracted…” Dig mumbles from where he stands, his eyebrow raised at both of them as he shakes his head. “So are you done?”

“Done?” Felicity asks. “Oh, no – we weren’t doing – that’s not – we didn’t – ”

“The system, Felicity, the system,” Dig interrupts saving Felicity from her babble as he holds the cardboard tube out in front of him. “To analyze the arrow?” 

“Oh!” she exclaims, “you got it! Great. Yes,” she exclaims, taking a breath. “System’s all ready to go. One arrow analysis coming up.”

Oliver watches as Felicity takes the tube from Dig and sits down at her desk, his eyes lingering on her for a long moment. When he finally tears his eyes away, Dig is looking at him with a smirk on his face.

_Right._

“I – uh – I’ll just clean all of this up…”

**** 

It takes Felicity nearly 20 minutes to stop thinking about Oliver’s hands brushing the underside of her breast and his tongue in her mouth every 30 seconds and focus on the task at hand. And even then, she has to keep stopping herself from glancing back to where he and Dig are talking across the room.

_Focus, Felicity. You graduated from MIT at 19. You are a strong, smart woman. You can go more than a few minutes thinking about your super hot boyfriend and his amazing kissing skills._

Looking at the weapon in front of her once again, there’s no doubt that the arrow Dig’s mysterious “friend” managed to get their hands on was a custom job. She doubts it was even mass manufactured and instead concludes that it was most likely hand crafted.

Whoever used this arrow was a dedicated and talented archer. And had money to spend on it.

As she studies the shaft of the arrow, Felicity looks for a serial number or marker of some kind to denote the manufacturer. She almost misses it, but as her fingers run along the narrow cylinder she feels the raised numbers that are nearly invisible upon first glance. 

Once she plugs the elusive number into her collection of databases it only takes minutes to yield results. 

“Hey – I found something,” she calls to Oliver and Dig who stop their conversation and walk towards her.

“What did you find?” Oliver asks as he comes to stand next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Finally some information we can use. Hopefully,” she says, bringing up several different windows on the screen in front of her. “The arrow is made from a custom composite and that composite is patented to a company named Sagittarius.”

“Latin for the archer,” Oliver murmurs, leaning over to study the screen.

“Clever,” Dig quips. “And impressive that you know that…”

“Hey,” Oliver exclaims, “I might have dropped out of 4 different colleges, but I did pay attention sometimes.” 

“You dated a Sagittarius, didn’t you?” Felicity asks, a wry smile on her face. 

“I – yeah,” Oliver admits. “She was really into astrology. But I will have you know that I know Sagittarius is Latin for archer for other reasons now.”

“Hmm, maybe _that_ should be your vigilante name – _The Sagittarius_ ,” Felicity jokes.

“It is better than The Hood,” Dig adds in.

“Yeah, no,” Oliver says firmly, trying to maintain a straight face. “And it’s not like I told the media to call me The Hood…” 

“Right, anyway,” Felicity says focusing on the arrow once again. “As I said, the arrow’s composite is patented to a company called Sagittarius and they made a shipment of 200 arrows including this one to an address in Starling a month ago.”

“What’s the address?” Oliver asks as Felicity pulls up a map on the other screen on her desk. 

“10245 Wharf Street. It’s a warehouse…” 

“It’s in the harbor district…QC has warehouses down there along with most other major businesses in the city,” Oliver says walking away from Felicity’s desk towards where his gear sits.

“Where are you going?” Felicity asks sharply, turning her chair towards him. 

“To investigate,” Oliver replies picking up his bow and quiver.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Felicity – ”

“Oliver, you have a gunshot wound that is still healing. You can barely shoot your bow…” Felicity says, standing and walking towards him. 

She knows she’s walking a thin line. She knows he’s been through tougher situations, has worked through injury and hardship. But he doesn’t have to go it alone anymore. She looks towards Dig who is still standing next to her desk, his arms crossed. He nods at her before shifting his gaze towards Oliver. 

“I’ll be fine,” Oliver argues as he prepares to head towards the bathroom to change.

“You’re taking Dig with you. And you’re taking the earpieces I bought.”

“Felicity – ” Oliver starts, a deep sigh escaping him.

“Oliver,” Felicity interrupts coming to stand right in front of him. “Please. Let us help you. You went off to confront your mother on your own and you ended up nearly bleeding out in the back of my car. Let Dig go with you. Let me be your back up here. You’ve brought us in. You have a team now. Use it.” 

**** 

“You’re okay to approach the warehouse,” Felicity says through the earpiece. “Satellite doesn’t show any other heat signatures in the vicinity.”

“Do I want to know how you have access to an infrared satellite?” Oliver asks as he throws a look at Dig next to him.

“Uh – probably not…” comes Felicity’s reply.

“How much did it cost me?” Oliver asks, wondering how much a satellite, or access to one, could possibly cost. A lot, he figures. Explaining _that_ to his accountants wouldn’t be easy. 

“Oh, I uh, didn’t buy it. This isn’t really something you can just buy on an American Express card so I kind of…borrowed it.”

“Borrowed it?” Oliver asks, not sure whether he should be amused or concerned. 

“Yeah…” She breathes. “From S.T.A.R. Labs. They have this _really_ awesome satellite system. And with just a few modifications on my end I can pretty much make it do anything I need it too.”

“You know how to modify a satellite remotely? Actually, don’t even answer that. Of course you do. How does QC even deserve you? How do I deserve you?” He asks almost to himself as he and Dig approach the large metal door to the warehouse. 

“Is the infrared still clear, Felicity?” Dig asks from next to him, drawing his gun and looking down the darkened alley to the right of the warehouse.

The warehouse looks like it has seen better days, the address painted crudely on a wooden sign beside the door. It’s a far cry from the old but nicely maintained QC warehouses on the other side of the harbor.

“It’s all clear, but please be careful,” Felicity responds.

“Copy that,” Dig says as he moves to stand behind Oliver.

“Let’s do this,” Oliver says with a deep breath, easing open the door and peering into the darkened warehouse. 

Upon first glance, the warehouse looks deserted, its empty rooms devoid of anything other than empty metal shelves. But as they walk further into the building, Oliver sees something sticking up from the floor in the next room. It’s one of this new archer’s black arrows, driven into the concrete floor like a calling card, beckoning them forward.

“Dig – ” Oliver says, gesturing to the arrow and taking another few steps forward.

“What is it?” Felicity’s voice asks through the earpiece. “The satellite is still clear and none of the surveillance cameras in the vicinity are showing any movement. 

“It’s another black arrow, sticking up from the floor,” Dig replies quietly.

As soon as Oliver steps in front of the arrow he hears it, the sudden slamming of the door they entered the warehouse through.

Silently he and Dig both turn at the sound of the door, finding nothing and no one there. By the time they turn around again they know they’ve made a grave error.

In front of them on the wall an explosive contraption has come to life, liquids from two separate tubes streaming together and rapidly filling a container topped off by a flame.

“Damn it,” Dig exclaims next to Oliver as he turns for the door.

“It’s a trap, Felicity. It’s a fire bomb,” Oliver says, a note in his voice betraying the gravity of the situation. “We need an exit. Do you see anything?”

“No, no, no, no, no…” Oliver can hear Felicity mumbling through his earpiece as her fingers fly over her keyboard.

“We’ve only got about 60 seconds, Felicity.”

“Oliver!” Dig calls from the door. “Do you think one of your explosive arrows can blow the door?”

“No! Wait!” Felicity shouts. “The combustion in the arrow that close to the bomb could set it off. Look up. There’s a vent on the second level. You should be able to use the explosive arrow to blast through. It’s far enough from the bomb..

Dig is already headed for the ladder to the scaffolding above by the time Felicity’s finished speaking and Oliver knows they don’t have a single second to spare as the liquid inches closer to the flame.

“Hurry,” he hears Felicity whisper, mostly to herself, as he and Dig scramble towards the vent.

“We gotta go now, man,” Dig barks as Oliver nocks the explosive arrow.

The explosion of the vent from the wall precedes the explosion below by mere seconds and there’s just enough time for them both to dive through the hole in the side of the warehouse before flames are licking 40 feet in the air.

****

“I’m so sorry,” Felicity mumbles into Oliver’s chest, her arms wrapped around his torso. “It’s all my fault – I should have realized…”

“Hey,” Oliver says stepping back, his hands lifting to cup her shoulders. “What are you talking about? We’re fine. See? This was not your fault – you couldn’t have known – ”

“But I should have! I should have,” she huffs, feeling the panic of the last hour give way to an irritation and anger at both herself and the responsible party. “Whoever is doing this is constantly one step in front of us, anticipating our next move. They moved the wreckage, they killed the head of QC’s security, they made Walter disappear…They knew you’d go to that warehouse tonight. And you and Dig almost got killed. I, I must have tripped something when I did the patent search. I led you right to them. And I should have known better…that it wouldn’t be that easy. I should have looked for the trap.” 

“Felicity, Felicity stop,” Oliver says wrapping her in his arms. “You’re the reason Dig and I are standing here right now. Had you not pointed out the vent, I would have done exactly what Dig suggested. I’d have blown out the door and probably set the bomb off. You bought us precious extra seconds. Seconds that might have made all the difference. Everything you’ve done in the last 72 hours alone for us, for what we’re trying to accomplish…I would have never gotten this far on my own. So, please, do not doubt yourself.”

“Thank you,” Felicity says leaning back and kissing Oliver on his soot covered cheek, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. As her fingers brush over the spot where Oliver was shot Felicity catches his wince.

“How bad are they pulled?” she asks.

“They’re fine,” he says too quickly.

_Liar,_ she thinks with a grin.

“Come on, take your shirt off. Let me see.”

“Really, they’re fine. I just need to change the bandage.”

“Oliver,” Felicity says with an intense look. “Shirt. Off.” 

Across the room Diggle clears his throat, pausing in wrapping a bandage around a burn on his arm. 

“Before you two descend back into flirtation land and I see one too many make-out sessions for a 72 hour period, I had a thought," Dig says.

Felicity turns towards Dig, her hands falling to her sides as a blush creeps over her cheeks. 

“If this archer knows we found his warehouse and that you dodged his welcome present, he’s going to target you again,” Dig says, addressing Oliver. “The killings have been a way to call you out and now that you’ve taken the bait he’s going to want to finish it,” Dig says as he stands to put away the first aid kit.

Felicity looks between Oliver and Dig, an idea forming in the back of her head. 

“Was everything in the warehouse tonight destroyed?” she asks.

 “Yeah, why?” Oliver asks. 

“I just thought that maybe, in his own space, this archer might have been careless. He didn’t leave a single trace on the arrow Dig collected from the police – no fingerprints or DNA. But if we could get our hands on something, maybe we could figure out who this guy is…”

“Well he knows by now that I’m still alive,” Oliver says. “He’s not a patient person – he’s gone through the list in a matter of days. He’ll be back. Soon.” 

“We just need to be ready this time,” Dig says. 

“Right,” Felicity says. “So we can finally get a step ahead of this bastard.”

****

In the end, they don’t have to wait all that long. After a few brief hours sleeping in Felicity’s bed and a day spent in the office, Oliver and Felicity arrive at the Foundry to find Dig waiting for them, phone in hand, the television turned to Channel 52.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” Dig says pointing at the TV screen. “He’s made his move.”

On the screen, an exhausted and terrified woman is reading from a crumpled paper, the dark room behind her illuminated by a single light bulb.

“Good evening Starling City,” the woman reads tearfully, her voice shaking. “For the past several months this city has been besieged by a vigilante, but the police have been unable to bring him to justice because they lack the will to do what justice demands.” 

Oliver can feel the tension rising in his body as the woman reads the statement. It was one thing for this person to threaten him or the not so innocent people on the list, but it was another to target these innocent bystanders.

“I will kill,” the woman continues, choking on a sob, “one hostage every hour in the name of this vigilante until he surrenders himself to my authority.”

As the woman finishes reading her statement the screen returns to the news anchor. “If you’re just joining us,” he explains, “the copycat archer that’s terrorized Starling City for the last 72 hours has taken 5 hostages and locked them inside a building in the Glades, calling for the Vigilante to surrender. Starling City Police are attempting to stage a rescue, however they’ve discovered that the building is rigged with explosives.” 

“This guy sure likes explosives,” Felicity quips as she takes off her jacket and heads to her desk. 

“Let’s just hope he didn’t rig the roof,” Oliver says.

“Or the windows,” Dig adds, standing up and gathering his gun and extra ammo. 

“That’s how you’re going to have to get in,” Felicity says, pointing to the map of the building and the surrounding neighborhood. The building to the east is taller, so you’ll be able to zip line from one roof to another. Or through one of the windows on the third floor.” 

“We can send the hostages to the roof and get them out that way,” Oliver adds, looking at the map. “There’s no fire escape they can go down?” 

“No, it doesn’t look like it,” Felicity responds. “Some of these buildings in the Glades weren’t very concerned about fire safety.”

“Alright,” Oliver says, straightening up and heading towards his gear. “We’ve got less than an hour before he kills the first hostage. “Let me change and we’ll go.”

Less than five minutes later, Oliver returns to the main room of the Foundry, suited up and ready to go.

“Here,” Oliver says going to his trunk and tossing a piece of black fabric to Dig. “If we’re going to do this, you’re going to need some identity concealment.”

“Thanks,” Dig replies, pocketing the balaclava. “At least it’s not greasepaint.”

“You ready Felicity?” Oliver asks.

“Ready. Don’t forget your earpieces. And don’t forget the plan.”

**** 

Oliver’s feet hit impact the window with a crash, the glass scattering in front of him. Turning, he waves at Dig across the alley and soon the bodyguard is zipping towards him. 

The third floor landing is deserted and the building is virtually deserted. 

“Talk to me, Felicity,” Oliver whispers as Dig comes to stand next to him, gun in hand. 

“The hostages are directly below you on the first floor. Continue down the stairs and turn right. They’re sitting in a circle with their backs to one another.”

“Remind me to buy you a satellite for Christmas,” Oliver quips quietly as he and Dig begin to descend the stairs. 

“I’m Jewish,” Felicity responds. 

“Hanukah then.”

“We don’t really do big gifts for Hanuakah…more like 8 small gifts.” 

“Felicity…”

“Right. Sorry.” 

“How much time do we have left, Felicity?” Dig asks, bringing them back into focus. 

“About 10 minutes,” she replies. “No archer in sight. The only heat signatures I see are yours and the five hostages.”

“He’s here,” Oliver growls as he and Dig reach the first floor. “He just wants us to think he’s not.”

With a look at Dig and a nod, they move out into the main room of the building.

“Where is he?” Oliver asks as he and Dig approach the hostages and begin untying them.

“We don’t know,” a woman responds, her hands shaking as he frees them. 

“It’s okay, you’re all going to be okay,” Oliver reassures them as Dig unties the last hostage. “Follow me.” 

“Take them to the roof,” Oliver says to Dig, his voice gruff and unyielding, as they return to the stairwell. 

“But what about – ”

“I’ll be fine. Make sure they’re safe and then come back,” Oliver interrupts him.

“Oliver,” Felicity’s voice crackles through the earpiece, “I thought the plan was to stick together.”

“We need to get those hostages to safety, Felicity,” Oliver says. “It’ll be okay.”

Turning around, Oliver takes a few steps back into the main room. But it’s not empty.

“Thank you for coming,” the hooded figure says, his voice disguised. “I knew after the warehouse that I’d have to do something dramatic to get your attention.” 

“Well you’ve got it,” Oliver says, his hand gripped tightly on his bow. “What do you want with me?” 

“What any archer wants. To see who’s better,” the archer snarls, nocking an arrow and letting it fly.

Oliver ducks, letting several arrows fly as the archer pursues him through the building. An intense game of cat and mouse that leaves Oliver winded, the stitches in his shoulder burning. Climbing up into the scaffolding, Oliver waits for the archer to appear.

“You’re better than I thought you’d be,” the archer shouts from below. “But you’re no match for me.”

Oliver takes a running jump, loosing several arrows towards his foe from above. But it’s of no use. The other archer has ninja-like reflexes, dodging each arrow and not missing a chance to loose some of his own.

As Oliver ducks and rolls, he miscalculates and an arrow strikes him in thigh. He doesn’t waste a moment and, calculating that the arrow missed a major artery, yanks it out of his leg with a grunt of pain. 

“Oliver?” Felcity’s voice questions, her inquiry met only with silence and the sounds of fighting.

“Dig,” she bites out through the chaos. “Dig, get down there now.”

Oliver doesn’t hear whether Dig replies, but he hopes he’s on his way. Because the other archer has gained the upper hand.

Scrambling to his feet, Oliver launches himself at the archer, using his body as a weapon. He succeeds in landing multiple punches and finally, finally, the archer loses his balance, stumbling backwards. 

Oliver uses the moment to nock another arrow and let it loose towards the archer, but before Oliver can blink he’s back on his feet and has deflected the arrow with magician-like agility. 

The archer launches himself at Oliver, delivering punch after punch to his head and torso. 

“First Hunt, then Ravich, and now you. I know all about your list,” he says between punches. “And the man who authored it wants you dead.”

Oliver struggles to reach an arrow in his quiver but a well aimed punch at his already injured shoulder makes him roar in pain as his arm goes limp.

“Dig!” he hears Felicity shout.

“They call you The Hood,” the archer sneers bending over where Oliver lay on the floor, feeling slowly returning to his arm and shoulder. “Let’s see who you are without it.” 

His hand finally closes around an arrow and he reels his arm around, striking the archer in the calf with the shaft, the metal arrowhead plunging through his boot and into flesh.

Oliver uses all the strength he has left to pull the arrow back out, the archer growling in pain and turning back towards him intent on attacking again.

But suddenly, Dig is there, sending three gunshots in the direction of the archer who flees.

“Sorry I’m late,” Dig says, grabbing Oliver under the arms and hauling him up. “You alright?”

“No,” Oliver replies honestly, cradling his most likely dislocated arm to his chest.

“But I got it.”

**** 

“Well, I guess I should be glad that you’re at least walking in here under your own power,” Felicity says from her desk chair as Oliver and Dig reach the bottom of the Foundry stairs. “Are you both alright?”

“Dig’s fine,” Oliver replies, crossing towards the med table and sitting down, his arm still clutched to his chest. “And I will be.”

Approaching the med table, Felicity raises her eyebrow at Dig, but says nothing and moves to stand in front of Oliver.

“Nice split lip,” she says. “No kissing for you for a while.”

“I’ll suffer,” he replies, a smile breaking out across his face that gets cut short when the movement pulls at the wound.

“We’ll see,” Felicity says, turning her attention to his arm. “It’s a good thing Dig has medical expertise, because this is beyond my band aid and antibiotic ointment skills.”

“I can fix the dislocation,” Dig confirms.

“Good,” she mumbles. 

“Oh,” Oliver says suddenly, holding out his good arm. “I brought you a present.” 

“A bloody arrow! You shouldn’t have,” Felicity deadpans. “I always did prefer bloody weapons to roses.” 

“Felicity –”

“Joking!” she replies, grabbing a pair of latex gloves from the table next to her and taking the arrow from his hand. “If this helps us catch this guy, I’m framing this.” 

“If it helps catch the guy, I’ll have it encased in gold for you,” Oliver grunts as he moves tests the pain in his arm. 

“Come on, let’s reset that shoulder,” Dig says to Oliver as Felicity sits down at her desk, placing the arrow upright in a holder to not contaminate it. 

Felicity works silently for the next hour, going through all the necessary steps to extract the blood evidence from the arrow and trying to ignore the crunching sounds of Dig resetting Oliver’s arm.

Another hour later, Felicity is half asleep at her desk and Dig and Oliver are seated across from one another at another table, Oliver’s arm now in a sling with a bag of ice perched on his shoulder. 

Her eyes drift closed in the relative quiet and she can feel her head drooping towards the table when the alarm goes off. 

Rocketing upwards, she straightens her glasses and focuses on the screen to her right, large green letters blinking the word “Match” at her.

“Gotcha.”


End file.
